Stein's Shoppe of Curios
by the mythologist
Summary: London, 1801. In her quest to halt the amorous escapades of her philandering father, Lady Maka Albarn stumbles upon some well-kept secrets, dangerous - yet intriguing - people, and several magical 'trinkets'. Stein's incognito assistant, however, stumbles upon something else entirely. AU, no wielding, SoMa
1. The Flask

**Clearly, I have this unshakeable love for Stein, because he just pops up everywhere in these stories. I'm beginning to suspect I like him more than Soul and Maka. This is sacrilege, and I must go sacrifice myself now, but not before telling you I do not own Soul Eater, and that I hope you enjoy your extremely belated (sort of) one-shot present, tigerhorse!**

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**I also do not own Soul Eater, and haven't written anything (Any. Thing.) in months. There are many reasons for this, and most of them ended in failure, but we won't get into that. Enjoy!**

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_**Stein's Shoppe of Curios - ****London, ****England. **_

_**February **__**18,**__** 1801**_**. **

The sign hung boldly above a darkened doorstep – _Stein's Shoppe of Curios. _Beneath it, Lady Albarn wondered if she were truly mad enough to cross the threshold. For mad she must be to consider entering this shady, tucked-away den of iniquity. She knew as well as anyone about the reputation of the shop, and it's eccentric owner. Yet she also knew that what she was seeking could only be found here. She glanced around, making sure no one had noticed her. It was oddly quiet for noontime, and Lady Albarn – Maka, to the few she considered friends – supposed it was just another of the many signs that had led her to this place. Besides, what did she care about her reputation? She was already considered odd enough as it was, with her penchant for knowledge over flirtations, and reading over dancing. Her father certainly had a reputation enough for the two of them, anyway...

The thought of her father settled the matter, and her momentary indecision was swept away. Maka squared her shoulders, and strode through the open doorway-

-into the most cluttered room imaginable. The room was stacked from floor to ceiling with all manner of flotsam and jetsam, and try as she might, Maka could find no method to this madness. Flasks and vials of mysterious substances were mixed in with artifacts from foreign lands, and scrolls of paper were wedged in between cages of odd-looking animals. Maka turned slowly, stunned by the effect. Could she truly find what she was looking for here? How could anyone find _anything_ in this mess?

"Are you lost, my lady?"

Maka spun around, breath catching in her throat. She hadn't heard anyone come in...and she hadn't noticed anyone as she walked in. Then again, she had been completely taken in by the chaos surrounding her. Yet even after facing the speaker, she needed another moment to martial her thoughts. Standing before her was a man of indeterminable age, scowling and slouching, with the most remarkable ruby red eyes. Upon closer inspection, she realized he was still quite young, although the unlikely thatch of white hair had caused her to think him older. Judging by the way he was dressed, he most likely worked in the store. Yet there was something peculiarly refined about his accent...Could this possibly be Stein, himself?

"I- I am not lost. I'm here to speak to Mr. Stein. Is he in?"

His odd eyes narrowed as he looked her over from head to toe. "Dressed as you are, Lady, I doubt he'll be discussing _that_ sort of business with you. He's not as depraved as that. So it's best you leave before you attempt to make an irrevocable mistake."

Maka paled. She knew, of course, that the curio shoppe also acted as a front for El Chupacabra, the most infamous brothel in all of London. What she hadn't expected was to be taken for some opportunistic tart! The color climbed back into her cheeks with her mounting rage. "I am _not_ here for _that._ I wish to discuss the acquisition of a specific item that I _believe_ Mr. Stein has in his possession. I will have no more of this unfounded slander upon my character, if you please. Now, is Mr. Stein in, or must I come back some other time?" Maka had learned from years of experience that sometimes, offense was the best defense. Besides, there was something about this young man that set her blood to boiling, and she hadn't known him for above 5 minutes. Although there was something familiar about him...

"Mr. Stein is not in. And no, you should not return here when he is. A lady like you should have nothing to do with this place!" He stepped closer to her, and Maka realized that when he wasn't slouching, he was actually quite tall. "My warning wasn't about the brothel, _dear heart. _It was about the items in this shop. They are not for amusement, and are exceedingly dangerous! So forego your dream of astonishing your friends at your next dull party. Leave this place at _once."_

The insufferable young man never saw it coming. One moment he was turning away from the lady, satisfied that she would take his warning and leave, and the next he was hit upside the head with the lady's handbag, suspiciously heavy and therefore a wholly painful experience.

"In God's name, woman, what do you think you're-"

Her second swing landed, and it was just as painful as the first. He took a step backwards into an oak cabinet, and a vial tilted perilously above his head.

Maka's had never before let her rage master her like this, yet this man's impertinence drove her to the brink. "How _dare_ you tell me what I should do! You are not family to me, and therefore hold no sway over me! It is no trinket I seek, to parade about at my nonexistent parties! I am here on serious business, and you will _not_ waylay me-"

"No, it is _you_ who are waylaying me, you foolish woman- _Put that handbag down!"_

_ "_I will use it as I see fit, you annoyance!"

"Ow! Stop that, you harpy!"

"Never, you blackguard-"

He pushed back against the cabinet in order to escape her next attack, yet in doing so he dislodged the precariously placed vial that had been shook loose only moments before. Before either of them knew what was happening, the vial had fallen to the floor between them, sending up spirals of color that twisted and wove intricate patterns around and between them. Distracted by the beautiful display, Maka's ire was immediately forgotten.

"It's so lovely..." She couldn't help but whisper as her eyes tracked the movement of the colors about the clerk's shoulders and face. She smiled as she saw sweeps of light out of the corner of her eyes, and the look of amazement on his face, as well. His face softened at her smile, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might smile back at her. Maka's heart skipped a beat. When he looked at her like that, with the fading colors still weaving in between them...there was something beguilingly handsome about him...

"Soul? Did someone come in- _Ah."_

The two whipped away from each other, and the last of the colors winked out of sight. Standing in the doorway of an unnoticed adjoining room was a tall, bespectacled man who was wearing a tattered trench coat. There was something slightly off about his kind smile and gentle demeanor, but the oddest thing about him was the gear sticking into his neck. Was that a medical reality? What purpose could that _possibly_ serve?

Maka took a step towards the man, nonetheless. She had come this far...and she would not be deterred. "Am I correct in assuming you are the owner of this establishment?"

The strange man smiled, and Maka was put in mind of certain childhood nightmares, born of the bedtime stories her nurse would tell her. There was something eerie about this man. "Correct; as long as _I _am correct in assuming you are Lady Maka Albarn, daughter of the late Kami Albarn, and my old friend Spirit."

Simultaneously, Maka sucked in a shocked breath, and the man next to her stilled. "How could you know?"

"The hair...those eyes...that unflinchingly direct demeanor...you resemble your mother in many ways, Maka dear. It did take me a moment, however. I haven't seen you since you were a wee girl."

Maka felt as if the world was spinning around her. "You...you _knew_ me when I was a child?"

Mr. Stein pouted. "Of course I did! Didn't you recognize my name? Or is that not why you've come?" He sighed. "Judging by your expression of utter befuddlement, I'll have to assume that you haven't come to reunite with your long-lost godfather. Well. Perhaps another time."

"_Godfather?"_ That interjection came from the man next to her. "She's your- how can an old swindler like you have a godchild? And one of rank, no less?"

Maka didn't say anything, but looked quite closely at Mr. Stein. He _was_ about her papa's age...and he knew that she physically resembled her mother with her ash-blonde hair, and luminous green eyes. Yet these things could be common knowledge, and her father had once told her that her godfather had been deported back to Germany long ago...

"Once upon a time, Soul, I was a sight more important than I am now. Yet the wheel of fortune turns as it may, and I found myself in...dire straits. A disappearance was in order, and I had to leave the country. Yet men always have a need for my talents, and so I made my way back when the fuss had settled. Or do you still not believe me, godchild?

Maka raised an eyebrow. "Your first name is?

He smiled graciously. "Franken."

"And what transpired at my parent's first meeting?" Now _this_ was not common knowledge. If he knew this, then she could believe him.

The smile grew wider, and somehow more genuine. "Your mother boxed his ears – several times – for attempting to seduce her maid during a secret rendezvous." There was a faraway look in his eye as he continued. "I never quite understood how, but it was love at first sight for your father. Not so for your mother. But somehow he won her 'round."

Maka smile matched his, and there was a touch of evil in it. "Godfather. It is an unexpected pleasure to meet you at last."

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Soul could take it no longer. It had been a long, trying day, and his maddening employer and the even more infuriating Lady Albarn getting along in this manner was simply too much. He raked his long fingers through his hair and finally let it out. "What in God's name is even going on? Stein, you can't possibly be serious about being connected to her! And if you are, then tell her to leave – don't let her get caught up with your dangerous curios!"

Stein's eyes glinted, and Soul knew that was never good. "Ahh, but she's already involved. As are you, my dear boy. Aren't either of you curious about those fey lights you unleashed?"

Soul's mouth went dry. How could he have forgotten? The lights had killed their anger in a heartbeat, and had caused him to think...well, never mind what they had caused him to think. More importantly, he hadn't known what they were. And while they didn't feel malicious (he was relying primarily on his experiences over his months of employment at Stein's shop, but a deeper intuition agreed) that didn't mean they didn't have lasting effects. He stole a glance over at Lady Albarn, and was gratified to see she had forgotten as well.

"Well then. I'll explain everything, shall I? But first, a cup of tea is in order. Tea set!" Before the lady could exclaim at the futility of simply calling for a tea set, a silver platter flew out from behind a stack of books and headed straight for Stein. On it, of course, was a teapot full of steaming tea, and three delicate cups. Soul grinned as the lady's mouth fell open. She hadn't expected that, had she?

"Ahh, but before I begin...you were here for a purpose, yes? I wouldn't be a very good Godfather if I didn't hear you out first. So? How can I help you?"

Maka blinked in amazement as Mr. Stein began pouring tea. It was all so preposterous...but she _had_ come here in hopes for something impossible...

She began after sipping her tea, and was surprised to find it delicately brewed, and delicious. "I came here in search of something specific. All my research has led me to believe you possess the fabled Ring of Fidelity, which I had hoped to acquire for what may be obvious reasons. In case they are not, I mean my father. The rumors of his..._misadventures_ have spread far and wide, and after an altercation with him, he announced that if I could find the ring, he would wear it. So, here I am."

Soul nearly choked on his tea. All of London knew Lord Albarn's reputation as an accomplished Lothario, and could understand why his daughter was so worried about it. She was unmarried, and his wild reputation would undoubtedly slander hers. Yet she had risked her reputation on her own by coming into the shop. Could there something more to that explanation? Perhaps she had a prospective husband waiting in the wings, and she needed a quick solution, otherwise she'd lose him? For some reason that didn't sit right with Soul. He scowled, and caught his reflection in the dark liquid. It shouldn't matter to him what she did with her life. He'd only just met her. And he detested her, no matter how enchanting she'd looked with those lights circling her...damn! No more of these infernal thoughts!

Stein surreptitiously glanced at his assistant, noting his obvious duress. Oh, young people were such fun... "And do you have a certain woman in mind? Because it will tie him down to someone, exclusively."

Maka nodded firmly. "Of course. Myself."

This time, Soul really did choke on his tea. To his credit, so did Stein.

"_Are you mad!?"_

_ "_Ahh? His daughter?"

Maka sipped her tea and waited until the two men regained their composure. Then, she continued. "Yes. Unless my research has led me astray, a direct blood relation of the giver cannot themselves be the focus of the recipient's affections. So I – and my father - should be entirely safe from any unnatural affection, I assure you."

Soul had the feeling she was the type of woman who used words of 4 or 5 syllables at least twice a sentence, and that she carried the dictionary she read for fun in that handbag of hers. How else could she have concocted such a hypothetical scheme? There was so many unknowns she was relying on, and so much that could go wrong.

"And so your giving him the Ring will do...what?"

Maka set the teacup down with a decided _clink._ "It is the principle of the thing. I will give him the Ring, and he has promised to wear it. It will be up to him who he bestows his affections on, but his philandering days will be over. All the- well, it will all be over."

Stein watched his guest with lazy eyes that she suspected missed nothing. "And will that truly solve the problem? Or will this be an unescapable prison?"

Maka shook her head slowly, but even Soul could see the shadow of doubt in her countenance. "It cannot be a prison. Otherwise, he wouldn't have assured me of his utmost sincerity in regards to the Ring."

Neither Stein nor Soul voiced the obvious: Lord Albarn had clearly not expected his daughter to _find_ the Ring. What man in Lord Albarn's position would give up his ladykiller status? Or, at the very least, leave the terms of his eternal, magically enforced fidelity in the hands of his _daughter?_

_ "_Please, Godfather. Will you tell me if you possess the Ring? Or must I inquire further, in different avenues?"

Stein smiled, and Soul knew well enough that trouble was coming. "I do not have the Ring."

Maka's face fell, and Soul wondered at Stein's flippant response. That expression...he had been so sure Stein had an ace up his sleeve...

"But I do know where it is..."

"Where? Where is it? What must I do to obtain it?" In her eagerness the saucer rattled in her hands, and she took a moment to steady herself. Soul wondered if the lady had told the entire truth – why did she need Lord Albarn's actions to halt so desperately?

"No, no, my dear. It is currently in the possession of someone a young lady simply cannot get to. I can, however, order it from him. If it somehow managed to find its way into your hands after that...well, I've been sorely remiss in my duties as a godfather for all these years. I'd ask no further questions."

Lady Albarn's relief was short-lived. "But...even were that to happen, would not I be bound to you, then? All my research was clear in that respect: the Ring was either earned, or was gifted, and to any it was gifted their heart was the return price. So I thank you for your generosity, but I do not believe I can accept your offer..."

"What about stealing it?" The words came unexpectedly, drawing surprised glances from his companions. Hellfire, Soul was surprised at himself for uttering them. Why was he helping this woman? He certainly wanted nothing to do with it!

"That might work..." That worrisome glint was back in his employer's eyes, and Soul cringed. When would he learn? "It's something to look into, at any rate."

Maka nodded firmly, and tried her best to ignore the disgruntled young man next to her. Somehow she had been taken aback at his suggestion – for some reason, thinking of him as a thief didn't sit well with her. Although she did suppose his suggestion did not make him such. After all, it would be her to do the thieving, when the time came...

"Perhaps we can revisit this topic another time. There is another matter we should discuss..." Stein flicked his wrists, and, as if he had conjured it from sheer nothingness, a clear, glass ball appeared in his hand. When he tapped it lightly with his forefinger, colored light roiled and bloomed within it. Maka's eyes widened. Was there a way to capture the effervescent beauty of those peculiar lights? Yet even as she wondered, she remembered the gentle expression on the young man's – Soul's - face, and understood that the light within the crystal ball would never be quite as breathtaking as the original. To free herself from these unwelcome thoughts, she found herself asking elementary but essential questions.

"Forgive me – but what _were_ those lights? They were...beautiful." She could feel the young man's scrutiny, but she did not glance his way. She hoped that she was not blushing, and that no one understood the reason for her slight hesitation. This was simply not the time to become faint of heart over an inexplicably attractive young man!

"Soul? Do you know?"

He shook his head slowly, just as distracted with the lights within the orb as Lady Albarn was. Seeing them again brought back that fleeting sense of wonder, and clear remembrance of how beautiful and _touchable_ the lady was, softened by the lights and her happiness. This was a dangerous road to travel, seeing as how the lady was as cool as marble when not faced with mysterious magical lights...

"Have either of you ever heard of the Dutch alchemist, Rein Tovenaar?" When both shook their heads, Stein continued. "I suppose there's not much to tell...he lived nearly 400 years ago, in a small village outside of modern-day Amsterdam. Although he was rumored to be a more than competent alchemist, the only surviving contribution he bestowed unto the ancient art was something he dubbed the "Veldfles van Droom," or Flask of Dreams. Even that, tangible as it was, was shrouded in mystery. All we know of it, besides what we can physically observe, is that he created it on the eve of his beloved wife's death, and that he believed it would grant immortality." He smiled his eerie, gentle smile at his assistant and the lady. "Do not be worried. The flask has been used many times since its creation, and none of its users have ever gained immortal existence. Neither is it a danger that will hasten your ends. I believe you are perfectly safe, so rest assured on that account."

Maka's guilt ate at her and she could hold it back no longer. "I'm so sorry we broke the flask...It was not intentionally done but we have destroyed what sounds like a precious treasure..." She trailed off, not knowing what to say. What did one do in this situation?

Stein looked at her quizzically. "Destroyed?" He twisted the gear at his neck as if that would help aid his thoughts.

Maka shifted nervously. "It was placed on the cabinet over there, and during our...disagreement, it crashed to the floor."

"Ahh. Excuse me for a moment-" Flexing his fingers, Stein suddenly called out: "Veldfles van Droom! Come!"

Maka said nothing, but a flower of hope unfurled in her heart. After all, she had thought it impossible that the tea tray had followed his commands...she was not disappointed. Barely a minute later, the flask – intact and perfect -came rushing through the air to Stein's outstretched hand. If Maka had not learned to believe in magic the very moment upon entering into Stein's shop, she certainly would have begun now.

Stein observed the flask, turning it over to catch the light. "Ahhh...I _see._"

This caught Soul's attention. "Professor? What is it you observe?"

"Yes, yes...it is as I suspected..."

Forgoing her stern resolution to not look at her godfather's assistant, Maka shared a worried glance with him. At his nigh imperceptible shrug, she found her voice. "Godfather? Would you care to enlighten us as to the nature of your suspicions?"

Stein set the flask down carefully, and pulled a lit, hand-rolled cigarette seemingly out of the air. It was a testament to Maka's resilient nature that such an occurrence no longer phased her in the slightest. Stein hid a wry smile. Perhaps there was more of her father in her than she thought. "If you will observe, the lights are no longer in the glass. As I suspected, they have found more suitable receptacles." He fixed them both with a telling glance. "Lady Fortune must be smiling on us all. The lights have chosen to reside within the two of you."

Anger, an otherwise unfamiliar emotion to Soul, rose up in his chest far more quickly than he could have imagined. "How, in the name of Heaven and Earth could this be a fortunate happenstance? Who's to say how we'll be bedeviled by one of _your_ dangerous-"

"The lights are...within us?" Lady Albarn's quiet wonder cut through Soul's tirade effortlessly. "Truly?" As she spoke, she seemed to glow – not lit from within from the fey lights, but from some inner beauty that made Soul bite his lip in order to tear his eyes away from her. What in the Dark's name was _wrong_ with him? Could the flask's contents have something to do with this sudden, inexplicable attraction?

"Indeed they are. And no, Soul, they are not dangerous. I have told you this before. There is, however, an effect that I have long wanted to study. It is in that way that I consider this a fortunate circumstance. For if I study it, then I can find a way to cure it, and then all will be right as rain. In addition, I'll recompense you for your time and trouble: for my goddaughter, the Ring, and for Soul...well, you know what you need. Is this an acceptable offer?"

As per always, Maka had many, many questions. Not the least what the young man next to her required as payment. Yet the most important was undoubtedly, "Effect? And what might that be?"

"It is called the Flask of Dreams for a reason, my dear. Those who open the flask and become a new 'home' for the lights witness certain dreams – or memories, no one is quite sure – of Tovenaar. Therein, I believe, lies the key for solving the true mystery of the Flask. Yet that is only one facet of the effect of the lights – for the lights ever and always desire to be together, and you have split them now into two. Therefore, unless I can find a way to pull the lights out of you (which has proved an impossible endeavor for the last 400 years, by _any_ who have tried) or otherwise assuage the longing of the lights; you two will always dream in tandem."

For a long, painful moment, silence reigned. Then, pulling herself up from the depths of her shock, Maka spoke. "I don't quite understand-"

"Every night, for the rest of your existence, you will experience the same dream...together."

Maka immediately blushed a damning, cherry red. It was not that her dreams were, on average, anything to be ashamed of – but dreams were intensely personal, and she had no desire to let this confusing young man into her head. Especially if this attraction didn't end _immediately. _

Not five feet away from her, Soul was thinking along similar lines. His dreams were full of dangerous things, people and places he should not know, a history that was all his own and secrets he would die to protect. Not to mention the strange lightness in his chest whenever the violent lady next to him would smile. Clearly, for both their sakes, they needed to undo this magic as soon as possible. "What must we do to fix this?"

"For now, there is only one thing you can do. Until you have gone through all of Tovenaar's dreams, there is no way to move forward.

"So if I may, I would wish you both pleasant dreams."

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_**Lady Maka's private apartments –**** London, England**_

_**February 18-19th, 1801.**_

When she had been a little girl, and had still worshipped the ground her father's feet had trod, he had once told her that a dream was the heart's true wish. She was young, hopelessly impressionable, and had believed him for many, many years, until she had lived long enough to realize that most of her dreams were incoherent and unrecognizable, and that all her father did was lie. Yet tonight Maka reflected on that memory as she prepared for bed. Throughout her awkward teenage years she had longed for adventure, magic, and romance, and now, when she had supposedly put all such childish desire behind her, she would experience two of the three in one night. Even then, the image of Soul's face (she had fought it for hours but she could no longer think of him as _the young man _or _Stein's assistant_ any longer) rose in her thoughts, in instances both scowling and relaxed. Heavens! Why couldn't she shake him from her mind? It must be dread, she told herself firmly. After all, unless they helped Stein with his research, their dreams would be connected forever...

Why didn't that worry her as much as it should?

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**Look at what I just did. I will start out by apologizing for mucking up the foreignspeak. I also have no business writing period pieces, but I can't help it they are just so smexy and don't you deny that you aren't already drooling at the thought of Soul/Stein/Spirit being early 19th c. gentlemen.**

** I know _I_ am.**

** In other news, I am also frighteningly overworked, behind on just about all my projects/pieces/portfolios/papers, am being massively guilt-tripped by my ex, and have an impossible crush on a bassist. **

** Help. Preferably by leaving reviews. Or teach me the proper way of writing about British nobility, haha.**

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**Huge thanks to Glittergoat (hey girl heyyyyyyy) for the first review, and especially to The StormBorn for coming across with some massively helpful edits and tips on Britishness :) I will definitely be checking out that wiki article you mentioned. Thank you both so much! :)**


	2. The First Dream

**Soul:Eater is the property of Atsushi Ookubo**

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**A very Happy Christmas/Happy Holidays to all of my readers! I hope all of you have a happy and safe Holiday Season. In the spirit of giving, this is for you! This is Part 2 of 7, so we are making progress.**

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_**Chapter 2 – The First Dream**_

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_**The Docks - Amsterdam, The Netherlands**_

_**Spring, 1417**_

When Soul awoke, he assumed that something had gone wrong. Perhaps Stein had been a bit too overeager in his diagnosis about the effects of the Flask of Dreams? But then the tang of the salt in the air registered, a foreign scent to his area of London. Curious, he opened his eyes.

They opened to witness a vista of color that simply did not exist in London. The grass around him was painfully green, and the dirt road that lay at his feet was an earthy brown that, if it did exist in London's current color palate of blue, black, and grey, would have to be miles under the cobbled roads of his home. In the distance there was a forest more sizable – and probably far more dangerous – than any in modern-day England. To his left, heralding the smell of salt was the sea, hemmed in by archaic looking structures (a dock, Soul supposed) that harbored 5 or 6 small boats.

Well. He supposed Stein was right after all. As per _always._

He took a deep breath of fresh air – a luxury he hadn't entertained in...well, far too long, at any rate – and slowly let it out, thinking of what must come first. He wasn't sure how the dream was supposed to work. Ostensibly he had to find the lady, and then they had to find the magician. Or would the dream do it for them? And how was he to find either of them in a dream that was not his own?

"Sir? If you are quite finished breathing, perhaps we could begin to investigate Tovenaar's dream? We don't know how this works, and we don't want to take all night." Soul whipped around to find a decidedly unruffled Lady Albarn smirking at him, even as she too was taking in several deep breaths of her own. She was dressed, incongruously, as she had been in the shoppe: a white, empire-waisted morning dress with a sheer gray overlay, very much a fashion of the modern times. Soul took this to mean (hopefully) that no one could see them. Otherwise, they would have to be quite inventive as to why the lady was wearing a fashion that wouldn't be in vogue for another 400 years.

"Shall we?" Soul found himself extending a hand to the lady and wondered if this proved she was running him mad – he had _never_ felt the urge to be chivalrous, even before his life and circumstances had altered so dramatically. That same remembrance almost caused him to jerk his hand back in reaction, however. A lady such as she wouldn't take the hand of a shop's assistant, a lowly man of trade, even in such removed circumstances as these. Now would come the sniff of rebuff, and the glare of disgust...

Yet when her gloved fingers wrapped securely around his own, and her bright eyes held not an ounce of revulsion in them, Soul realized two important things. One, he knew exactly where they were supposed to go next. Secondly, his rapidly-formed attraction to her was no longer to be denied.

Lord Solomon Evans – who had adopted the pseudonym Soul when his uncanny talents tore him irrevocably from his home and station - was in very great trouble indeed.

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A quarter turn of the hourglass later they had made their way down to the docks. They were still holding hands, as they were not sure they would still know where to go if they did not keep in physical contact with each other. It was this turn of events that had Maka quieter than usual, although the man at her side did not seem to notice. It seemed like he was a man of few words, and it also seemed as if their prolonged intimacy had no further effect on him than a mild hand cramp. Maka scowled to cover her blush. It was not so, for her! She could feel his strength in his hand, coupled with an odd sense of delicacy when she realized how long and slender his fingers were. Maka scowled further. She had never thought herself prey to the wild infatuations her father's actions encouraged, and here she was practically swooning over this man's hand! Maka sighed. Perhaps if she had married last year she wouldn't be here now..._feeling_ so much for this unknown young man.

Yet now she was feeling something else, a tugging sensation that seemed to draw her eyes towards the center of the dock. There, bobbing heavily in the water was a ship filled with people that had not been there only moments before. For the first time since she fell asleep, Maka felt a jolt of fear. They were in someone else's dream. _Anything_ could happen, and what could they do to stop it? Awaken?

"The woman. In the back. That's what he's focusing on-"

His hand in hers jerked, as if trying to pull her attention to what had captured his. Her eyes flew to what she now felt compelled to notice, and immediately fixed on the woman. She was young, barely older than herself, with long dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense braid. Her face was long and thin and expressive, and she clutched her bundle of belonging to herself like a lifeline. Without being told, Maka knew she was an immigrant – that everyone in the boat was an immigrant. She also knew...

"That's his wife, isn't it? She's lovely. I don't want to look away from her." It was true. There was something about her, some vitality and energy to her that made you want to keep her in your sights. Soul shot her an odd look, perhaps as if there was something more lovely and much closer by, but slowly nodded in agreement.

"This must be when they first met. Look, over on the docks. I think that's our man." He squeezed her hand again, and Maka tore her eyes from the woman. There was a gaggle of people on the docks, yet one man held himself apart...or perhaps the people around him, sensing or knowing his power, gave him wide berth. He was tall and thin, with red blonde hair that looked as if it had never been cut, and a slightly hooked nose. And, although neither Maka nor Soul had ever seen a picture of Rein Tovenaar in their lives, they knew he was indeed their man.

The boat had reached the dock, and the first few people began to clamber up. The woman directly in front of the wife-to-be suddenly stumbled, and a squalling bundle fell with a splash into the water. When it began to sink almost immediately, the mother screamed, and made as if to leap into the water after it, yet the men on the dock held her back. The only person left in the boat had no such hindrances. With only the barest of pauses she threw her own bundle to the floor, and dove into the water after the child, utterly ignoring the shock and consternation on the dock above her. When she emerged victorious a few moments later, only the woman showed any sign of thankfulness, sinking to her knees and sobbing as she clutched the coughing baby to her chest. Everyone else who had witnessed this woman's heroism back away from her, holding off their fingers to ward her away.

Maka burned with indignation. She knew what that sign was. "She saves that child and they fear her for a witch? Merely because she can swim?" Tears burned at her eyes and she ground them away with the hand that was not currently holding Soul's. "Was there _never_ a more accepting time than our own?"

Soul did not remark on the oddness of her query, nor did he make a smart remark about the acceptance of a century that had not, on the whole, valued women any more than their present one did. He merely gripped her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, and nodded at Tovenaar. "He doesn't seem to mind. Look."

Even as the woman was still treading water, cut off from the dock as no one would give her a hand up, Tovenaar strode through the gaggle of onlookers until he stood directly in front of the woman. For a long moment they merely looked at each other, her hair escaping from her braid and floating around her like a veil, and his blue eyes sparkling with the light reflected from the water. Yet just as the townspeople were beginning to pull at his robes, he smiled, and it was with all the warmth of the sun. His mouth moved, and although neither Soul nor Maka could hear his words, they knew he was thanking her for her bravery. His words silenced the clamor on the docks, and he bent down and reached out to her. Tentatively, clearly reluctant to trust in the unexpected help from a stranger, the woman waded over and put her hand in his.

Maka's felt a warmth spread throughout her body. Though it was only a dream, and not one of hers at that, she could feel the sense of wonder flood the woman as Tovenaar pulled her out of the water. Ellsbeth had never been treated with such respect, not even when her father had been alive, and no one had known of his peculiar abilities... The water was cold, but this man's hand was warm, and the happiness in his strange blue eyes was almost enough to make her smile when she had felt no inclination to do so for years-

_"Maka!"_

Maka was pulled out of her odd reverie by the urgency in Soul's voice. The shock of hearing her name upon his tongue was seconded by the consternation in his gaze. For a moment she could only stare back at him, wondering at the length of his eyelashes, even as his unusually colored eyes roved over her face. He really was exceptionally beautiful, odd as that sentiment might be when pointed toward a man. Additionally, she liked the way he said her name – informally yet with a touch of deliberation, and oh Heavens he was still staring at her, and her heart rate had increased to a dizzying speed.

"Are your wits addled, Lady? Or can you simply not tear your gaze away from mine?" The latter sentiment was pronounced with a satisfied smirk, and Maka's breath hitched in her throat. Mortification battled against her better judgement for only a moment before her free hand flew out, and with unexpected precision slammed down onto the top of Soul's head.

"Owww! Damnation, woman, why must you be so violent?"

"Not as violent as you are crude, you rapscallion!" To Maka's surprise, Soul's ire calmed much more quickly than it had during their episode in Stein's shoppe. Hers as well; he simply looked so innocent and befuddled as he ran his hand through his hair that her forgiveness was implicitly given. To be fair, she _was_ staring at him like a lovesick maiden in her first season...

"I do apologize. I was lost in thought, and hadn't realized I was...committing an impropriety. Please forgive me."

"No, it is I who should apologize..." Soul rambled off like an adolescent, cursing his inability to put his thoughts into words. Why couldn't this woman just live up to his limiting expectations? More importantly, why couldn't he even stay angry with her for a reasonable amount of time? "You looked as if you were deep in thought. Was it anything...expressly pertinent?"

Maka's brows furrowed. Yes, she had been lost among her thoughts.. ostracization and her Father? And sthe woman was named Ellsbeth... She glanced over at the docks to see the crowds dispersing, and Tovenaar wrapping a shawl around Ellsbeth's shoulders. If Maka concentrated, she could still feel a faint echo of Ellsbeth's relief and caution. Now, how to explain all this to Soul?

"This may sound...odd, but when Tovenaar pulled Ell- the woman from the water, I thought I felt something...relief, and – and gratitude. I think it is what the woman feels. She has been...an outcast of sorts, and she was especially receptive to his kindness. Also I think her name is Ellsbeth." When Soul's guarded expression didn't change, Maka's thoughts took a turn for the worse. Oh heavens, he thought she was mad, didn't he? "I know it sounds unnatural, but perhaps it is peculiar to the dream...or perhaps it is a sympathetic reaction among women...or-"

"I think it more likely to be manifestation of the dream, but as I didn't feel anything, I cannot be sure. It sounds...not quite right for you to have an empathetic connection with someone you have never met simply because you are females."

Maka inadvertantly tightened her hold upon his hand in her excitement. There was no mockery in his response, and his face still held a guarded, albeit honest expression. He was taking her seriously, and putting forth thought into this...! "You believe me? You don't think I'm mad for experiencing such an event?"

His smile was crooked, with his sharp teeth peeking over the curve of his lower lip. Yet Maka had never found any man's smile so charming as this. "I work for Stein, my lady. There is very little that could surprise me at this juncture in time. If you could but see the customers we receive at the Shoppe...you would never fear for your sanity again."

Maka smiled thoughtfully at the dock, squeezing his hand once more. When he lightly pressed her hand in return and it garnered no notice, Soul took action. "At any rate, we are currently experiencing a dead man's dream...a dead _alchemist's _dream. If we are to free ourselves, we will need all the help offered...orthodox or no."

"Then perhaps...I could continue to offer assistance?"

Soul looked over at Maka, subtle confusion on his features. "In what way, my lady?"

Maka turned back from the dock, where the figures were slowly fading. In the way of dreams, this did not bother them – they knew that either the dream was transitioning or ending, and instinctively knew they would not be trapped here. Mist was beginning to gather at their ankles, and Maka swallowed her fear. He would know soon enough, especially if their dreams stayed connected much longer... "Perhaps this 'empathetic connection,' as you called it... is not so uncommon to me. Perhaps I- _Soul?_"

Maka was interrupted by the mist weaving between them. One moment Soul was standing next to her, looking at her with deep concern and the next there was a mottled grey expanse that Maka couldn't help but tumble into-

-and awaken.

…

…

...

_**Lady Maka's private apartments –**** London, England**_

_**February 19th, 1801**_

Maka opened her eyes to the grey canopied ceiling of her bed and bit back an unladylike yell. She had been so close! Yet perhaps this was a blessing in disguise – although Soul was an intriguing man in many respects, and had treated her _peculiarity_ with respect, there was not enough reason to believe he would continue to do so in real life. After all, he could simply think her uncanny ability to connect with the emotions and (sometimes) thoughts of others simply a construct of Tovenaar's dream. If he knew that she could do this in waking life as well...Maka pulled the covers up to her chin. He _had_ intimated that she was not nearly as strange as many of Stein's customers. Yet she was willing to bet Stein's customers were not generally of the landed gentry!

"Maka? _Maka! _The concert begins in an hour! If you do not make haste, you will be late!" The door swung open to reveal Lady Kimberly Ford, Maka's chaperone and distant aunt. She paused to give her young ward a rueful smile before she playfully beat at the bed with her weapon a choice: a gold-gilded walking stick that was the terror of many mischievous boys when they wandered too close. Yet to Maka she was nothing but kind and supportive, and Maka had long grown to love the older woman. That she had made an unconventional match with a brilliant scientist working for the King on harnessing the power of electricity (Ox was of noble birth, but _just) _and was still happy and very much in love also garnered Maka's admiration. In fact, it had been she who had counseled Maka when Lord Wesley Evans had made the unexpected overture last autumn.

"Perhaps my dear girl is having second thoughts? The maestro is the one who once sought your hand...or is that why you still go to his concerts?" Lady Ford drew a dramatic sigh and spun the cane expertly. "Oh the love games the young play..."

Maka giggled as she slipped from the bed and joined her aunt at her wardrobe. "It's not like that, dearest Aunt. I go because he is my friend, and I support the music he and his friends make. Besides, I made my refusal quite clear, and he agreed with my reasons." She peered within the wardrobe and began rifling through the garments. "Green, do you think? Or perhaps grey?"

Lady Kimberly looked carefully at the young woman. She was happier than she had been in months, humming cheerfully (if tunelessly) as she selected her dress... Lady Kimberly was no fool, and knew the signs. Whether Lord Wesley Evans was the man or no, her bookish and imperceptive young niece had finally fallen in love. It warmed her heart to see Maka so pleasant and alive – she had taken Kami's death hard, and to see her come alive again was all that she could wish for.

Except for finding out the identity of the young rogue who had stolen Maka's heart. Perhaps she would pay a morning visit to her old friend Mrs. Blair, holder of all rumors and salacious tales in upper London...

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**Once again I apologize for ****mucking up any ****titles/****non-period wordage. I wrote this chapter ****half in the car, and half at an elderly relative's house and neither option has much in the way of internets. ****I am currently uploading this in the driveway of a closed McDonalds that forgot to turn off its wifi...****so Merry Christmas Mickey D's :)**

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** In the spirit of Christmas, you pretty much have to leave a review. I am fairly certain there is a law on it *smiles winningly* Those reviews will help me to get chapter 3...or 4 up by New Years :)**

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**Merry Christmas!**

**-the_mythologist**


	3. The Melody

**Soul:Eater is the property of Atsushi Okubo.**

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_**Chapter 3 – The Melody**_

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_**The Village- Amsterdam, The Netherlands**_

_**Summer, 1417**_

"I think we began on quite the wrong foot. If you would allow me, I am Lady Maka Albarn but I would much rather you call me Maka. I should think that in our current circumstances, this shouldn't be considered an impropriety."

Soul couldn't help but smile in amusement at the woman in front of him. She could be so arch yet earnest, friendly yet forward. She was a bundle of contradictions, and after the end of last night's dream he was pleasantly surprised. "Please call me Soul, in return. Do not worry, your _scandalous_ behavior will forever remain only with me." For one mad instant, he entertained the desire to bring her hand to his lips but he fought it down. That was something his brother would do, never himself – in this instance, he could only manage a wry smile and hope she caught the humor in the quip. "As is anything else we ever discuss. I rely on your discretion as well, although the very nature of this...situation almost ensures it."

Maka nodded firmly as the world around them twisted and roiled into recognizable shapes. They were not at the docks like last night, and the weather was much warmer. High summer, perhaps? To her right a swirling mass of color straightened itself into a decrepit-looking hut, and she knew: village. They were in a (_the_) village. "Shall we look for them, then? While we walk perhaps I can explain what I hinted at last night...and then perhaps you can help me decide if it might be useful or not."

"Lead on, my lady." Paradoxically he extended his hand to her, not stepping forward again until her slim fingers wrapped around his. Maka drew in a silent breath before beginning. She had never told anyone about her odd ability, but there was something so steady and trustworthy in this man – and it wasn't simply a fancy, heruncanny faculty told her so as well.

So she began, taking care to keep it as succinct and simple as possible: since she was a young girl, she had been unusually privy to people's emotions, and on rarer occasions, their thoughts as well. It was much like what she had experienced yesterday, with Ellsbeth. Not only could she pick up surface emotions like rage, or love, or joy, but also _what_ had caused them. Depending on the strength of the individual, or perhaps her connection to them, their experiences could overpower hers, or merely color them.

It had obvious uses. There were times when she could read someone's character simply by assessing the feel of their intentions, and had protected herself and others that way. Other times she knew when to leave someone alone, or to offer assistance. Could there be a way to harness this ability here...?

Soul listened quietly to her explanation, only looking away from her when the landscape shifted in his line of sight. As she ended, he pressed her hand in reassurance before he spoke. "To me, what you describe sounds like an empath. I've heard Stein describe them once or twice. And it sounds like you've handled this quite clinically, and already have sussed out uses and dangers of it...you're an amazingly capable woman, aren't you?"

There was only simple truth in his voice, tinged with admiration, and Maka felt her heart beat faster. Oh this man...she was very much in danger with him. What would she do when he was no longer in her life?

"That's why you trusted Stein so quickly, wasn't it? Can you use this to know when someone is lying?"

Maka nodded, trying to still her overexcited heart. "Yes. Although Stein was very difficult to read – almost as a difficult as my father, truthfully – there was nothing negative clouding his intention. He seems twisted, yet sincere."

There was something wistful in her tone that caught his attention. Now that she had herself brought up the subject of her father, perhaps it was not too forward for him to satisfy his own curiosity. "Forgive me if this is improper or off the task at hand, but is your talent any part of the reason you wish to give your father the Ring of Fidelity?" There was a long moment that held until Maka let out a long sigh. She looked up at him, the very picture of indecision. He was just about to retract his statement before she cut him off.

"I'm sorry, it is not easy to explain. Yes, in part. But as I mentioned my father is very difficult to read...it is almost as if there is a barrier around him at all times. There were a few unguarded moments I was able to glean something from, however. The majority of those times I could sense he was desperately unhappy, and it was in some way connected to the women he seduced."

Clearly this was very difficult for her. Soul pressed her hand in support, and suspected that Maka loved her father very much, rather than long-suffering exasperation she chose to display. If so, then her desperate desire to obtain the ring made far more sense.

"I have spoken to him, however. I didn't tell him about what I had discovered, as that would mean telling him about my...skills as an empath, I believe you called it? Still, I brought it up to him the way I brought it up to my godfather and yourself, and when I alluded to a certain amount of pain, he assumed it was my own, not his."

"And then he agreed to your scheme."

"Yes. He seemed quite subdued...which is strange for him, but he agreed."

Soul swallowed down an affirmation before it could leave his throat. Agreeing with her would be madness, for then he would have to explain exactly how he knew her father. Intelligent as she was, _that_ conversation could eventually lead to an unwelcome discourse on genetics, and how Maka's abilities were not as unexpected as she clearly thought they were. What would she do if she learned her father was not at all what she knew? Clearly he must keep his secrets, and be very careful.

"You are difficult to read, as well...but not-"

Like a bolt of thunder, direction and awareness found them. The urge to observe the dream was stronger than yesterday, and as much as Soul wanted to know what Maka thought of him (could she sense his dangerous attraction for her? Could she read his own set of darker talents?) it would have to wait. The path was laid out before their feet, and in no time at all they found themselves walking through the open door of a hut seemingly no different than the others. Inside they found Tovenaar listening to a woman whose family resemblance was undeniable – had they not instinctively known this was Tovenaar's younger sister, they could have guessed from the flaming hair and bright blue eyes. When she spoke it was disconcerting – the sounds themselves were not translated, but the meaning inside of their heads, so that they understood a stream of otherwise unintelligible syllables.

"_She was waiting for you, Rein. __Perhaps you were right about teaching her how to read and write...__she's already__learned__ our tongue, and it's only been __a few months! __I'll take the babe __out to the back to get some air as I do the laundry. __Will you be staying for dinner?"_

_ "__Perhaps, Anna. __I would like to see __Erik and the boys, __although __I won't strain your __supply. I know your children need __to eat."_

Apparently Anna had heard all this before, as she simply waved her hand at him dismissively before hoisting her baby up to her bosom, and making her way towards the back of the kitchen. As she walked past the table Ellsbeth raised her head, and Soul could see how her grey eyes were just as piercing as Tovenaar's. Here was an intelligent woman, and at once he could see why Maka's connection to this woman was so sudden and strong. Even he could see the similarities between them...

"_Good morning, Ellsbeth. __Are you ready for our lesson?"_

_ "__Yes, __Herr__ Tovenaar. __I have read through the story you wrote for me, and I must say I did not __expect you to be so whim...whim__-si-cal.__"_

Tovenaar's smile was even more enchanting up close. "_For you, I wrote a whimsical story. __But today I have brought yo__u something __serious. __Would you like to see?"_

Ellsbeth nodded eagerly, and patted the roughshod wooden chair next to her. She turned her eyes to the parchment in front of her, so she did not see the gentle expression in Tovenaar's eyes when he gazed at her. Maka did, however, and a rush of his emotions – desire, fear, admiration, and the urge to protect – flooded her system. Here was a man who felt so much, whose entire life was lived on the knife edge of loneliness and despair, and yet he was so _patient. _With it came that strange understanding. He was an alchemist. Most would fear him a demon or worse! His sister and her family were one matter, but for this woman to sit across from him and look at him as she might any other man...there was joy enough in that, surely. Ellsbeth was a beautiful woman, and if not for her insatiable curiosity and keen intelligence, he would have nothing to offer her-

"_Herr Tovenaar,__what is this word? Malefi- mal-ef-i-ca__-__rum? __Is it...a bad thing? Mal, from the latin. __Bad spirit?" _Ellsbeth looked up at him questioningly, her finger pointing to the word in question, and then to the descriptive picture next to it. Maka felt the connection evaporate as Tovenaar's attention was drawn to the word.

"_Yes, __very good. __I__t is __pronounced __maleficarum. It loosely means witches, although it can be used for men or other people of __supernatural talents. __What other questions do you have?"_

_ "__Do you use these things in your work? Do you work with... maleficarum? Why are you showing me this?"_

_ "__No. I do not. __This is a warning so that __certain lines are not crossed...__I do not experiment with the darker arts...__there is too much that I love in this world to __darken it with __death." _He looked down at her and from the twisting of his fingers even Soul could see he was nervous. "_And...I show this to you to see if you have any interest __in helping me. __It need not be __anything magical, or dangerous. But __someone with your __ability and intelligence would be immeasurably important to me-"_

_ "Help you, as your assistant? __You would want me to read and write for you? Every day?" _Ellsbeth's gaze tore into the parchment on the table, as if looking at the man next to her was too much. "_I am a woman. __The __people here will __not like you more if you choose this..."_

Tovenaar touched her arm to draw her attention. From the slight hesitation in his movement, if appeared as if he wanted to take her hand, or turn her face towards his. "_Ellsbeth, __that does not matter __to me. __I do not care that you are a woman – you are __incredibly intelligent__,__ and__ you learn more quickly than any man I have ever met. __I am being impossibly selfish, I know. __I see how capable you are, and I want you to help me __with my studies. __And perhaps I am very wrong, but I think you desire to __learn as __well. __What __studies could you conduct, with me assisting you? __I swear to you that I am no dark sorcerer, and __I trust in your integrity to know there is no fear of you __turning to that route."_

She still had not turned to face him, but Soul could see the wide-eyed wonder and excitement in her eyes, and Maka could feel the explosion of feeling inside of her. She wanted this so badly, wanted to help this man, wanted everything he wanted. Yet it was too much happiness, too much joy, and it would all crash down like her life had before..._ "But the villagers, Herr Tovenaar. __Will they not... per-se-cute you? __They will hurt you, hurt Anna and the boys...I cannot be the cause of this again-"_

Now Tovenaar really did turn Ellsbeth towards him, but he released her immediately. "_You cannot live in fear of what others will do, __Ellsbeth. __But the people here are __peaceful, even if their welcome was not __what it should have been. __B__esides, __you have friends here, do you not? My family, and__Linna's, __and her extended family as well. __How could they not __love you when it was their babe you saved?" _He waited until she looked him in the eye, and the warmth and confidence on his face was enough to sway the stoutest heart. "_We are your friends, Ellsbeth. __We will protect you, and ourselves __from those __who would do us harm. Do you trust me?"_

Wordlessly she nodded, and couldn't help but reflect the happiness diffusing over Tovenaar's face. "_Then I accept, Herr Tovenaar, __with __my eternal...gra-ti-tude." _

Tovenaar schooled his joyful expression into a neutral one. "_There is only one condition to you accepting this position."_

_ "Yes? What is it?"_

_ "__You must call me Rein. __Otherwise I shall feel frightfully old."_

Ellsbeth laughed. It was the first time she had done so since long before she came here, and both Soul and Maka could feel the importance of this moment. Just as there had been a climactic moment at the docks, this was the culmination of this dream – not their budding partnership, but their mutual happiness.

"_I suppose I can try...__Rein."_

…

…

…

It was an odd feeling, waiting for this dream to end. Ellsbeth and Tovenaar had long faded away, but the dreamscape was still in existence, and Soul and Maka were currently wandering around in it until one or both of them awoke. They talked of this and that, and both were rather surprised at the depth of knowledge the other possessed – Maka was far more informed on matters of politics and the Napoleonic Wars than Soul would have guessed, and Soul - due largely to his apprenticeship with Stein – had not only read Visions of the Daughters of Albion by William Blake, he knew the true (if unsettling) myth from which the "fictional" tale was gleaned. Yet his passion seemed to be music, as he unconsciously grew quite animated when the topic was introduced.

After his initial rapture over the works of Haydn, Scarlotti, Mozart, and Bach abated, Maka was forced to admit that while she understood and appreciated the importance of music on a theoretical level, she herself was so unmusical that it was difficult for her to easily appreciate the niceties of each composer. Yet she made a point of supporting Lord Wesley Evans in his chamber music concerts, and had even attended one yesterday afternoon. Had Soul ever gone?

Soul's response was hesitant, and almost bitter. He had heard Lord Evans play in the past, but it was a long time ago. While he remembered the maestro's particular skill, he also remembered how much a favorite Lord Evans was with the ladies, and it detracted from the performance.

Maka shifted uncomfortably. "Not all ladies fall prey to Lord Evan's charms, Soul. I believe he was disappointed last year in his wooing of a lady."

Soul snorted. "I can barely believe it, my-Maka. I have heard rumors enough to know of his prowess. Perhaps the lady refused him because of the strained relationship with his father..."

Maka almost stamped her foot at Soul's obstinance. Why would Soul harbor such resentment against her friend? Lord Wesley was a good man, and the reasons for his frigid relations with his parents only proved it so! "Lord Wesley is currently out of favor with his father because he protects his younger brother's character at every turn! I'm sure you know any number of rumors about the unfortunate Solomon Evans. While his parents refer to him as terminally ill and or even mad, Lord Wesley does everything he can not only to promote his brother's memory, but also his capabilities." Maka looked distressed for a moment, as if she pitied the mysterious Solomon Evans very much, indeed. Yet then she remembered there was another attack to defend herself against, and she continued in a heated vein. "And I can assure you, not every woman is in love with Lord Wesley Evans! The woman he proposed to last year was myself, and _I_ denied him, so-"

"He proposed to you?" Soul's voice was dark and dangerous, and for one wild moment Maka felt the roiling emotions within him shoot to the surface. Just as quickly as they came he clamped them down, however, and Maka felt a sudden surge of elation. Was Soul...was Soul jealous?

If so, then she must proceed carefully. "Yes, but it was not a serious matter on his part. He's very lonely, and in truth, I believe he would much rather have his brother back again. The only reason we became close is because I did not care to perpetuate the rumors about Lord Solomon, and so he began to confide in me. Apparently, his younger brother is recuperating abroad, which is why no one ever sees him...yet it is also why the rumors are so numerous and stupid. Still, pity and friendship are not enough for marriage, and while I regard him as the best of men...I could not agree to his proposal."

"Because you do not love him?"

"Exactly. And because he does not truly love me, either."

Soul exhaled slowly, fighting down his detestable jealousy. It certainly was not Maka's fault that she had caught his older brother's eye, nor was his brother's skill, good looks, and charm an affront to Wes's character. Soul had long felt inferior to his older brother, but he had always known, deep down, that Wesley was a good man and had loved him in return. That he was defying their father's iron will warmed his heart, even as the thought of Wesley's lips and hands _anywhere_ near Maka's person made him want to commit acts of violence. Still. She had _refused_ him. Surely that was what mattered?

Besides, it was a nice feeling to know that Maka cared – even a little – for Solomon Evans. The fact that she had thought and knew of him long before he knew she existed was...dare he say, a tiny bit gratifying? "I should think this Solomon Evans would be very gratified to know that two people love him so well as to deny themselves marriage for his sake. He certainly seems to occupy a warm corner of your thoughts, and you've never even met him." Soul almost winced at his mistake – how was he to know she had never met him? Well, he knew because _he_ had never met _her, _but he supposed he could claim that he merely assumed that Solomon had always been in Germany, or wherever they send their recuperating invalids. Lord, what trouble living a double life could be!

Maka did not notice Soul's nervousness as she was too busy fighting off her own moment of insecurity. Should she tell him? Well, she had already told him much worse, what harm could this do? "I will not say that I am in love with Lord Solomon. It is as you say, I have never met him. But there is _something,_ and it was a matter that helped make up my mind when Wesley proposed. You see it is not only _people_ that I can read. Very rarely I can read _things_ as well. Perhaps a letter, or a ring, or an old tree. In this case, it was a melody."

Now _this_ was a surprise. "I thought you were no connoisseur of music, my lady?"

"Indeed I am not. I am speaking of the piece Wesley performs as an encore to all his performances – a lullaby written by his younger brother when he was quite young. Not everyone likes it, however. Even I can tell it is quite dark, and emotional, and complex...many find it quite unfitting. But every time I listen to it, I can _feel_ it – the meaning of it. I don't understand it, and I've gone to many performances just to see if I can get one step closer...but I _know_ it is there, and with no other music can I reach even that level of understanding. Perhaps because of that...I _like _it. I find it hard to dislike Solomon Evans if he can write music such as that."

Elation winged its way up through his body, and he feared that if the dream did not end quite soon, he would make a fool of himself by kissing her...or worse. That she liked his music was unnecessary fuel for his already raging ardor. It was only a lullaby, and he had certainly composed far more complex pieces for the pianoforte, but the essence was there and it was a window into his dark, twisted, unnatural soul. And she _liked _it. "And this piece...it prompted you _not_ to marry Wesley?"

Maka nodded firmly. "Yes. It's a very romantic notion, but I knew that I could not marry a man when another's shadow lay more _intriguingly_ across my life. Perhaps if another man had offered; one unconnected to the melody...but that was not the case." She sighed dramatically, and smiled playfully up at Soul. "I suppose I shall have to fall in love on my own, now. Perhaps then the melody will mean much less to me."

Soul was then caught between the desire to take her in his arms right there, announcing his true identity, and the caution he had built into every step of his new life. Attaining his desire would be nigh impossible, especially if -or when – she learned of what he truly was... Caught in this tangle, he said the only other thing he could think of. "If you wanted to make your father miserable, my lady, that would do it – his greatest fear is that you'll fall in love with some ruffian and leave him forever."

Maka stopped walking and peered closely at his face. "How do you know that? Do you _know_ my father?"

The dismay was immediate and involuntary, and sealed his fate. Still, he had to try. "All of London knows _of_ your father. I know no more than they." Oh spirits but she could tell that he was-

"You're lying. You _know_ him. How do you know him? Through Stein? But then why would you lie...?"

"Maka..." He ran his fingers through the shock of his hair and wondered just how on earth he could save himself. How had it come to this, when only moments before things had been going so well? "Yes. I'm sorry that I tried to hide it, but yes, I havemet your father. Generally it is through Stein, when I run errands for him." The look she was giving him was as hard as diamond, and Soul found himself cracking. "I have assisted Lord Albarn on a few occasions, but that is all I can say. Those instances were _his_ affairs, and not mine own." After a moment of reflection, he caught her eyes and continued: "And it has nothing – _nothing - _ to do with his flirtations, Maka. _That_ I can promise you. I do not agree with or support his behavior in that regard."

After a long moment she nodded, yet did not look away from him. "I know, Soul. I believe you." She reached up to brush an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. "You are a very different man than my father. I am _exceedingly_ grateful for this-"

This dream ended very differently than the last one. There was no mist to signal a transition; there was simply that moment that was so full of promise, and then darkness, and then-

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_**Stein's Shoppe of Curios**** –**** London, England**_

_**February 20th, 1801.**_

Soul awoke to an insistent finger poking at his jawline.

"I'd always been impressed with your morning gumption, Soul. But it has become nearly impossible to wake you over the last few days. What _does_ this say about the Lady Albarn's sleeping habits, hmm? Ahh, but I think my delicate flower is awakening!" Stein deftly leaned back to avoid Soul's sloppy punch. Although the aim was wide, the air crackled in its wake and Stein looked curiously at his assistant. There had been dark energy in that swing...and the normally stoic young man was bristling with anger. Stein took a moment to compute several outcomes before grinning wickedly. Of all the calculations he had made upon Maka's entering his shoppe _this_ was what he had hoped for most fervently. What a romantic he had become in his old age!

"My, my, Solomon. This is a development indeed. She is quite lovely – her mother's coloring with her father's delicate bone structure? And, of course, she certainly takes after her mother in intelligence and personality...another fortunate happenstance." Stein took a step back from the bed, where Soul was practically growling with rage. Although Stein certainly liked to stir the pot more than was good for him (after all, it was _he_ who had done so during the Crisis of 1787 – a fiasco that was now illegal to discuss in three separate countries) he also had a healthy respect for Soul's ability as a Soul-Eater. Ahh, and that reminded him -

"You'll have to woo her properly, you know. And we'll have to figure out a way to re-introduce you to society. It's a fortunate thing we didn't simply kill off your identity as Solomon Evans. Have you told her yet? That you are actually an acceptable young man of privilege and wealth?"

Soul shook his head tersely and Stein tis'ked in mock annoyance. "You'll have to do so soon. According to the illustrious Mrs. Blair, your brother has already extended an offer... although she did turn him down." When there was absolutely no response from the man on the bed, Stein frowned. He knew already? How did he find _that_ out without revealing his true identity?

"Well then. For now don't worry about Spirit. He's overprotective, but I will distract him as long as we need. You haven't already told my goddaughter of your affections, have you?"

"No."

Finally, a response. Stein was beginning to think that the young man had been rendered mute.

"She may know soon, however – my identity _and_ my...affections. Even without me telling her, I doubt I can keep either a secret much longer."

Well _this _was an ominous proclamation. "May I ask why?"

Soul couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. "She's an empath."

Ahhh. Now things were getting far more interesting. "Are you sure?"

"Positively. She's stabilized and self-sufficient, enough to the point where she can utilize her talents in the dreams. I can feel only the residue of her skills when we are in the dreams, but even then I can tell she is surprisingly powerful. Does Albarn not know?"

Stein tapped his patched together face with his fingers. "He's never said anything. That's not surprising, however. Either he doesn't know...or is terrified that history will repeat itself."

"Repeat history- in what way?"

Stein fixed his most unsettling gaze upon his assistant. It was to Soul's credit that he did not flinch, and met Stein straight on. "Spirit's wife – Maka's mother – was an empath. If she had not been, it is far more likely she would be alive today. You can imagine how well Spirit will take the news."

Soul groaned. Stein had to bite back a delighted smile – the was the most interesting life had been in _months. "_But cheer up, Soul. Just think of it this way: it won't be as terrible as when you ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. It is likely that _nothing_ ever will." No longer able to hide his mirth Stein undertook a strategic exit from Soul's bedchamber. Clothed, Solomon Evans was a worthy opponent; it was truly unsporting of him to needle Soul in his bedclothes. Until he emerged, however, Stein had some plotting to do...

...and a Ring to find.

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**I am not taking any special pains to be historically accurate with the dream sequences in Amsterdam. As such, I loosely intend Ellsbeth to be from a primarily German-speaking place (why she addresses Tovenaar as Herr) and Tovenaar speaks Dutch. As far as Google assures me, Tovenaar is a Dutch word for "Magician, Wizard, Sorcerer..." so there is my nod to a wonderful language that I cannot speak!**

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**I take a mild liberty with a very...interesting book by William Blake. It was published in 1793, and as far as I know was not based off of a myth, although there certainly are points being made. (I have not read the book, but wikipedia it and I'm sure you'll know all you wish to.)**

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** Reviews make me write things. Just putting it out there.**


	4. The Glass Heart

**Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Ookubo. I only own Tovenaar and Ellsbeth...and no real hope for the future :/**

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**Chapter 4 – The Glass Heart**

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_**Lord Spirit Albarn's Townhouse****–**** London, England**_

_**February 20th, 1801.**_

On the third day of Her Adventure in the Dreamlands (as Maka mirthfully chose to call it) she came to a very important realization: she was in love. She certainly didn't mean to be, and had never gone looking for such a situation to occur, but there was no way to deny her current state of affairs and the earnest charm of the man of – and in – her dreams. Yet now that she was awake, there were important matters to consider. Some had answers...and the others did not.

Firstly, she was fairly sure she could keep her own heart unfathomed, as the dream was far more interested in revealing Rein and Ellsbeth's romance than their own. This worked well to her advantage, as she could glean unguarded moments from Soul – like his rampant jealousy when they had discussed Lord Wesley...

Secondly, there was the matter of _who_ Soul was. He did not speak like some gutter urchin Stein had selected for his innate cunning and intelligence. He was also educated, and although he had eschewed most "noble" conversational topics, he had proven himself adept at turning the conversation whenever she had purposefully steered them into those arenas. He was adept at the verbal and social gymnastics all the _ton_ was conversant in. So if Maka had to guess, she would wager he was minor gentry, perhaps even at Lord Ford's level?

Of course, all suppositions led her directly to the third (and very important) quandary: why was Soul working for Stein? Her godfather had proven himself a bonafide magician, as no mere conjurer of the stage could own items of true and powerful magic, as well as call and command items with no wires or assistants. So for Soul to be working with Stein, did it not stand to reason that he, himself, must have some sort of affinity for magic? She had caught a fleeting impression of _something_ when she had focused her utmost attention upon him – but then she had been so focused on his relationship with her father that she could not fully decipher anything else. And, truthfully, most of the time Soul read like her Father, as if they had erected a great wall to confound all who might trespass. Yet by the presence and strength of the wall she could derive a measure of their power, for no one else had this ability to counter her strange skill when she tried her best to observe.

It was a puzzle, indeed. It was almost as pressing as the fourth quandary, and to her maiden heart the most important. Did Soul return her affections? Was there hope? Oh the terrible irony if she had turned down the most eligible bachelor of the realm – Wesley's father was the Duke of -, after all – just to be denied by a shopboy. Yet rank had never mattered to her the way it had to her peers, and she knew her feelings for Soul were far more serious than her pride.

That was why she was currently sitting in her father's townhouse, waiting for him to emerge from his study. She fidgeted, going over her course of action as she waited. First, she would open with a query about Stein, and tease him about never introducing her to her Godfather. Then, a reminder about the Ring, for she truly did not wish to _imprison_ her father. What she had told Soul was absolutely correct: she wanted his pain to cease, and only as a distant, secondary consideration did she consider her own prospects. Besides, if all went well, there would be a chance of her attaining happiness with the one man who she found truly honorable in his attitude towards her father's _misadventures. _Then, coyly, she would turn the conversation to Stein's assistant-

Her planning was halted by a strange sound coming from her father's library. At first it was so faint she ignored it in favor of her thoughts, but in a moment of total silence it forced itself upon her attention. It was a woman's voice, coming from her father's study.

"...not done, Spirit...must change...can't hold..."

Our heroine drew in a deep breath of pure, unmitigated rage. Her licentious father was entertaining women here? In his study? This she would not stand for. Exhaling sharply, Maka strode to the door of the study and thrust them open, prepared to vent her rage upon her father and thoroughly humiliate her father's unwelcome guest.

Upon throwing open the doors, however, she was not prepared to find her father the _only_ one in the room. How could this be? Yet no matter how hard her eyes scoured all the nooks and crannies of the room, there was _no one_ else there. It was a fortunate thing that her father was just as surprised as she, and that it took them both a moment to adjust. "Papa? I'm sorry to...interrupt, I merely- that is to say, I-"

"My darling! You have come to visit your papa! Oh, dearheart, it has been far too long! Come into my arms!"

There was no other recourse. Maka allowed herself to be engulfed in her effusive father's embrace, shifting uncomfortably when his hold ran the danger of crushing the air out of her lungs. While his raptures went on overheard, Maka reflected on the strange voice. She had heard _something_, of that she was sure. Yet there was clearly no one here, now. Oddly enough, the voice was familiar, now that she thought of it. Her father couldn't possibly be a mimic, could he?

"Papa...I grow weak-"

He drew back hastily, knowing that in his ardor he _had_ overpowered his daughter a time or two in her youth. "Oh, my sincerest apologies, dearest!" He smiled so widely there were tears in his eyes. "It's just been so _long_ since you have come to see me, my dear girl!"

Maka had to fight back a wince. There was a good reason for her absence, yet there was always a smidgeon of guilt – her father was a calm, charming man around everyone except her. It was embarrassing to see such a man turn into a groveling puppy when he was in her presence! It was even harder to affect her mask of nonchalance when she could _feel_ the love pouring off him in waves. "Yes, well, I thought to rectify that. Also, I had a question for you papa. Well...two, actually." She snuck one last glance around the room before she continued. "There wasn't anyone...here, was there? Before I came in? I thought I heard a voice...although I_ could_ be mistaken." A sly glance upwards proved her hypothesis – Spirit's face had turned to stone. Faster than she could blink he had pulled up his walls, and he was now utterly unreadable to her – both on a superficial level and with the use of her talents as an 'empath.' So there _was_ someone here - but where were they now?

"No, my darling. As you can see, I was alone. Perhaps you heard some of the servants downstairs? They do so like to sing." With a determined hand on her back he led her to his desk, where he sat upon the table itself, legs crossed like a little boy. Maka sighed. The topic was changed in such a way that she could not return to it...and her father really did know exactly what to do to try her temper.

"Did you have another query, dearest?"

Mysterious visitors could wait. Now was the time to prepare her best performance...! "Oh, yes. Papa?" Maka made sure to batt her eyelashes only three times. Any more would have been coquettish. "Why have you never taken me to meet my godfather? I met him the other day, and found him quite charming-"

Making a noise that sounded alarmingly like a death-rattle, Spirit fell backwards off the desk.

Maka stood up from her velvet-lined chair. "Papa?" Well _that_ was a telling reaction. Terror was emanating from him like a strong wind. Yet why make a man her godfather if he was frightened of the man? Consequently, Maka made her mind to give Mr. Stein a large hug next she saw him. Clearly the man was someone who she would get along with for the foreseeable future.

"Maka? How did- when did- _stay away from that terrible, terrible man!" _

His edict would have held more weight had he not been cowering like a child behind his desk as he said it. Fighting down the urge to giggle, Maka brushed off her skirts. "Oh, Papa, you take your jokes so far. Mr. Stein was nothing but propriety and kindness. We had a lovely conversation, and I think he will be very helpful to me in the future!"

Lord Albarn shot to his feet and pointed dramatically at his daughter. "And? _And? _Something else must have occurred! Things always go wrong – always go _badly_ whenever that man is involved! Were you hurt? Were you frightened? Did anything explode? _Did you die?" _

Well _really _now. That was taking it a step too far. Perhaps there was some truth in his statements – shattered glass was a very little like an explosion, especially when it housed a magical, alchemical creation – but certainly no one had stopped breathing.

"Papa, I am perfectly all right, as you can see. Certainly no one died. That is just _silly."_

Lord Albarn let out a long, suffering sigh. Before he could recoup, however, his daughter went on that attack.

"He has promised to help me find...well, the ring we spoke of earlier. I just wanted to make sure you were still agreeable to our bargain? It is a serious matter, and I would not wish to...well. If I find it, will you wear it?" Even before she finished speaking, her father's walls were back up. She had hoped to glean _something_ from him, but that looked to impossible.

"Of course. If you find it, I will wear it. I gave my word, Maka."

There was a tension between them that Maka hated. Yet in the guarded rigidity of his stance, she finally was able to catch a glimpse of something true, something behind the wall – _secrets._ The silence was full of painful secrets, and it was only when she was in a position to finally find the Ring that she was no longer sure it would help at all...

"I – I see. All right, then. I had worried...well, when even my godfather's assistant seemed to think the Ring of Fidelity a cruel punishment-"

"Stein's...assistant?" The air between them was changing yet again. No longer thick and stagnant, it was now almost charged with energy.

"Y-yes. The one minding the shoppe? Tall, with unusually colored hair and eyes?" Maka knew she must tread carefully. There was a dangerous energy in the room, and while she would (as a matter of course) ignore any of her father's commands she did not agree with, this was unexpectedly nervewracking. Clearly, he knew Soul, and had no idea that she did. "Do...do _you_ know him?"

"_Stay away from him." _

Maka bit down her shocked inhale. She had never known her father to exhibit this cold rage. For a fleeting moment, she was nervous. Yet then she remembered the warmth of Soul's crooked smile, and his condemnation of her father's actions. She knew Soul was dangerous, she was not naïve. Above all, however, there was a warmth in him, tempered by the shadowy wall he chose to hide behind. She wanted to trust in that more than she wanted to fear him!

It was with this in mind that Maka adopted a careless facade. She knew her father, and it would not do to betray any interest she harbored about Soul. "Papa? Don't you think you are overreacting? Stein's assistant has nothing to do with me. He simply overheard my conversation with my godfather about the Ring." When her father's dangerous expression did not waver, Maka played her devious trump card, knowing she would have to apologize to Soul in her dream tonight. She sighed dramatically. "You don't honestly think a shopboy would have designs upon me? Even _he _has heard of your despicable ways. He paid me no notice until he heard whose daughter I was – and then he looked down upon me!" Maka effected a tearful look. "If even the working class see fit to judge me because of your actions...how will men of the _ton_ treat me? Oh, my life is too sad to bear..."

Maka disliked acting like this, but it was undeniably useful. Within a heartbeat, her father was at her side, fussing over her like a society lady. Oh, of _course_ Maka would find a suitable husband! She was _far_ too beautiful and intelligent to ignore! Added to these charms were her nobility, bearing, kindness, calm demeanor, hair, lips, eyes... As her father went on in his raptures, Maka closed her ears to the ridiculousness coming out of his mouth, and tried to listen for what he was actually saying. He harbored deep dislike – if not outright hatred – towards Soul. She needed to know why!

So, she focused all her energy on the heart beat behind her father's wall, and listened.

_I will never let that Soul Eater claim my daughter._

Maka's heart thumped painfully in her breast. There had been such dedication and power in her father's mantra- and while she did not know precisely what a Soul Eater _was_, she knew it was something dangerous and terrible. Yet her father had felt her still in his arms, and peered into her wide-eyed face. Such reflections would have to wait until later, or in the dream when she could ask Soul what it..._he_ was.

"Darling? Are you all right?"

It took effort to smile her usual smile, but she did it. "Perfectly, Papa. Now, let's leave all that unpleasantness behind us...why don't we return to my godfather? Perhaps about how you met...?"

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_**The Village- Amsterdam, The Netherlands**_

_**Winter, 1418**_

Unlike the previous nights, this dream was insistent. It tugged them implacably through the winter air, past hanging branches heavy with snow. There was no time to talk, the urgency of the dream was such that their personal concerns fell away. There was only time to lace their fingers together before they were compelled to watch, experience, learn.

The exigency of the dream faded when a cloaked figured came into view, surrounded by a gaggle of women, all smiling coquettishly.

"_Mr. Tovenaar! What brings you out today? It's been so long since you've visited the village-"_

The women fell silent when the he turned them, revealing that _he_ was in actuality a _she. _Maka's eyes widened at the unguarded anger on many of the women's faces. This went deeper than simple disappointment, or even embarrassment. These women detested Ellsbeth, and it was because.-

_That _bitch_ how dare she take Tovenaar away from us? How __can __she follow him like a shadow? She's in the way, she's trouble, she's different. She must be a witch, to spell his eyes away from us-!_

Maka's grip on Soul's hand tightened uncomfortably. The townswomen's thoughts were vitriolic and powerful; it had been a long time since she had read someone's thoughts so accurately. Yet their hatred was a more immediate concern.

"_Excuse me, good ladies. I am not Tovenaar. I merely run an errand for him. Would you like me to pass on a message to him?"_

Her speech was better, but still halted at times. Soul was willing to wager that she had not been here a full year yet, although the rhythm of her speech could be affected by her anger. Soul was no empath, but he could see the dark energy roiling at her shoulders, indicative of her attempts to hold back. He was sure Maka was dealing with the full brunt of this display, so he pressed her hand in support.

For a long, tense moment it looked as if the townswomen would throw caution to the winds and tell Ellsbeth just what they thought of her. Yet some inner prudence bade them hold their tongue, and so with an ungracious nod they bid their farewells. Ellsbeth watched them go with a curious expression on her face, one that was equal parts anger, disappointment and despondency. Maka understood this was not the first time this had happened, and when she whispered her suspicions to Soul, he nodded in agreement.

Then, without taking a single step, they found themselves in quite a different environment – a warm, dry hut that was filled with ornately bound books and skeins of yarn, unidentifiable herbs hanging from the rafters along with strings of brightly colored paper, and jars of animal organs alongside the fruit preserves sitting on the shelves. This was a new way of traveling for both of them, and it took them both a moment to orient themselves. Yet understanding was immediate – this was Tovenaar's home. As Soul looked around, he was struck by how harmoniously the arcane and domestic aspects of the cabin combined – here was a man of magical talents that had not turned his back on a normal life. The thought made him glance over at Maka, and his heart swelled in hope. Perhaps a life with her wasn't impossible, after all? She was brave, kind, and intelligent, and he would be as strong as he needed to be to keep her from the dangers associated with his occupation...and his abilities. Maybe these dreams were the key to obtaining that elusive happiness he had longed for with increasing urgency since he had met her?

The door flew open, allowing the snow and wind to swirl into the home. Ellsbeth thrust the hood away from her face as she shut the door carefully behind her. "_Rein! I have brought the supplies!" _

Tovenaar's voice carried through the closed door to their left. _"__Excellent. Thank you, Ellsbeth. Will you bring them with you?__ After you take a moment to warm up, of course."_

Ellsbeth smiled as she gently laid her basket down and hung her cloak on the post by the door. She took a moment to slip off her leather boots, and began humming quietly. Ellsbeth's happiness was infectious; Maka's heart was lighter just watching her. She barely had to concentrate to experience Ellsbeth's peace and contentment – she loved everything about this cottage, this work, her new life. Yet most of all-

Ellsbeth swept past them and Maka lost the connection when Soul pulled her close to him to avoid a collision. Not that they _could_ touch – they had already experimented the previous night, and they passed through whatever or whomever they tried to touch. Still, it was a disconcerting experience, and Maka smiled her thanks. Before he could do anything other than smile in return, Ellsbeth opened the door and they scurried after her.

"_Good evening, Ellsbeth."_

_ "Good evening. How goes your work? Are you close?"_

Tovenaar looked up from the table, and Maka almost didn't recognize him. He was wearing a thick pair of goggles which seemed to wrap entirely around his head. Only the tufts of his red hair and the lips that curved into a gentle, signature smile were familiar.

"_I should think we are close, yes. Did you bring the herbs?"_

Ellseth indicated the basket on her hip yet made no move to place the basket on the table. Upon closer inspection, it was easy to see why: the table was absolutely full of clutter, and there was no space to put it. She pointedly looked at the mess and Tovenaar chuckled.

"_Yes, yes, I will clean soon. But here, all we need to do is to add-" _Here, the dream stopped translating his speech. Maka glanced at Soul with worry in her eyes, but Soul squeezed her hand reassuringly. Leaning close, he whispered his hypothesis – the dream did not want anyone to recreate Tovenaar's work, so perhaps it would leave out certain details? This made sense to Maka, and was proven when Tovenaar and Ellsbeth finished their concoction.

"_So, how do we know it works?"_

Tovenaar smiled as he pulled off his eye protection. "_Truthfully, the only way to know is to try it. I suppose we will have to speak with the mayor about using it on prisoners, first. He is a kind man, __and__ will see that a truth serum is far more humane than torture."_

"_But what if it doesn't work? Could not one of us try it first to see?"_

Tovenaar's bright eyes were suddenly guarded. Maka's heart twisted for him, as she understood – if Ellsbeth wasn't here, he _would_ have tried it on his own. More than any of his craft secrets, he was worried that he would announce his love for her...and be rejected. Or, worse than rejected, pitied. "_We could, but it is not advisable. __In this business there are many dangerous secrets, and I am not sure what I would tell you. Even more importantly, your secrets are your own, and I have no desire to wrest secrets from a lady.__"_ The last was said with a twinkle in his eye, but Ellsbeth was not assuaged. Before he could remove the cup from her presence, she daringly dipped her finger in it, and sucked the liquid from it. Her eyes flashed at his bewildered stare.

"_I realize you know many dangerous things, Rein, and I understand why you cannot __test this__. But I have no secrets from you. All that I know is yours. So, please, ask me. We will test it here."_

His face was so guarded and still, and only Maka could feel the terror and excitement whirling in his heart. This was why he truly loved her – her courage, her passion, and her inability to back down from the matters that left him trembling. There was a light shining deep within her that drew him to her, and it was instances like these that left him humbled.

"_What is your name?"_

_ "Ellsbeth Bingen."_

_ "__How old are you?"_

_ "19."_

_ "Why are you here?"_

She hesitated slightly, but before she could help herself she blurted out: "_Because my father died, and they would have killed me too."_

Now it was Tovenaar's turn to pause. He was nearly certain it worked, although Ellsbeth showed no sign of surprise or dismay. Perhaps she merely trusted him? He was forced to continue, although he had no desire to cause her pain. He remembered what his sister had told him about the spiteful women in town, most of which viewed Ellsbeth as a threat. He was not entirely blind, and he knew it was because she was close to him. She would possess many more friends and be in a far more secure settlement if she had not accepted his offer. Perhaps that would be an appropriate alternative, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"_Then w__hy are you here with me, acting as my assistant?"_

She froze, eyes wide and worried. Then she responded, closing her eyes as she did. "_Because you are wonderful. Because every day I am happy to work with you, and learn from you, and _see_ you. You are...the best part of my life, and I do not care who hates me if I am able to see you for one more day." _By the end of her confession she was shaking in her effort to stop her lips. There was clearly no more need to continue the experiment, as she was overcome by her confession. So it was to her shock that Tovenaar dipped a finger into the serum as well, bringing it slowly to his lips.

"_Ask me, Ellsbeth. We will be equal in all things."_

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she did as he commanded. "_What is your name?"_

_ "Rein Tovenaar."_

"_How old are you?"_

_ "34."_

A small, sad smile. _"Why did you choose me to be your assistant?"_

He reached for her hands before he responded. "_Because I have never met anyone like you –__ your courage, your intelligence, your beauty, __your smile__...__I love you, Ellsbeth. I want to be with you all the days of my life." _He brought her hands to his chest, his eyes burning brighter than ever before.

For a long moment Ellsbeth could only stare in wonder at her hands, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. Eventually, she wound her fingers around his and pulled them back to her. Shyly, she tilted her head down so that he might not see the color creeping over her cheeks.

"_Then perhaps...perhaps you must kiss me, Rein."_

He needed no further encouragement. Carefully he freed his hands so that he could tangle them into her hair, and gently pull her close to him. He angled her face towards his, sweeping his thumbs over her cheekbones before he leaned in to touch his lips to hers.

Soul averted his eyes out of modesty. He was not a prudish man, but deemed it rude to watch such a heartfelt embrace, especially when he had been privy to other emotional moments in their lives. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure what the attitude towards sex and marriage was in this century, and he certainly was not going to watch anything sordid. He glanced over at Maka, feeling her grip on his hand tighten. What he saw surprised him – she was not only watching the fervent couple's kiss, her eyes were wide and practically sparkling with animation. It was only then that he remembered she was an empath, and would no doubt be influenced by the lovers' emotions...

He made a decision swiftly. Although the dream had not faded away on its own, he had to remove Maka from the immediate vicinity...if only to protect her propriety. He steadily ignored the fact that the joy she radiated made it difficult not to give in and kiss her_. _So he tugged her out of the work room, not relaxing until he had relocated her to the other side of Tovenaar's home. Only then did he allow himself to look at her.

"Are you all right?"

Her cheeks were lightly flushed, but the unnatural sheen was fading from her eyes. It took her longer than he would have liked to respond. "I...I think so. I'm sorry, it was just so _strong. _They love each other so _much..." _She trailed off when she looked at him directly, seeing more than just concern in his beautiful eyes. Perhaps her empathy was growing stronger, or he was more affected by the dream than he let on, but she could almost taste the strong feeling in his breast. That she could sense it shocked her, almost as much as the existence of it. Hope flooded through her, and it was only her inborn sense of righteousness that kept her from forcing her way in to his heart to see the secrets he kept there. After all, it wouldn't mean anything if he didn't tell her...

The dream had made her bold. She stepped close to him, placing her hand on his chest. It was nearly the same as between Ellsbeth and Tovenaar, and Soul's nostrils flared, seeing the connection. "I can feel it, Soul. I won't look, but I know it's there." She paused as she noticed the split second of panic flash over his face. She was not entirely sure what it meant, so she continued. "So, in the interest of equality, I will tell you that I believe... I feel the same." The enormity of her confession suddenly struck her, and she pulled her hands away, blushing a deep crimson. Unable to face him she spun around, clutching her elbows and breathing deeply in an attempt to keep from panicking.

_I feel the same._ Maka's words echoed through his mind until he thought he might go mad from joy. Logically he knew there was a reason he simply could not profess his own love for her, but in that moment it was lost. So a few moments later, without knowing how he got there, he found himself holding her close to his chest, wondering at the soft slide of her hair between his fingers, and if she could hear his heart pounding against his chest.

"Soul? I-"

"Shhh, love. Just- just for a moment. Don't worry." She wriggled in his arms and for a worrisome moment he thought she may be trying to get free. She proved him wrong when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling their faces so close that their cheeks touched. This was a level of intimacy that Soul had not expected, particularly when he realized he could feel the exhalations of her breath on his ear. The power of the dream was merging with the swell of their emotions, and Soul suddenly found it quite difficult to pull away from her. He tried reminding himself of Lord Albarn's seductions and the way they had hurt her, but all attempts were proving in vain when it came to the woman in his arms. He knew his fate was sealed when she pulled back just enough to gain a clear view of his face. There was no need to barricade his heart from her abilities – his love for her was superficially apparent. From the blossoming warmth in her own eyes, she knew all.

It was time to deviate from Stein's careful plan of woo'ing and winning. "Maka, there's I need to tell you. I'm not who you think I am. Truthfully, I-"

Maka laid her fingers upon his lips. Her guilt at having downplayed her affections for him to her father had taken hold, and she saw the opportunity not only to learn more, but to make her apologies. "Perhaps I already know – I spoke to my father earlier, and I used my...talents on him, and he thought you a soul-eater." She looked up at him, trusting and innocent. "Is that what you are? What _is _that?"

This was the moment it would all fall apart. This was the terrible secret that had denied him his heritage, and most of his earthly happiness. It was what he had tried so hard to forget, but would now dash any hope for her love...when he told her, would she run? Faint? Scream? Or would she merely turn from him, knowing in her heart that he was a monster?

"Soul?" He had turned to stone in her arms, and a chill crept up her spine. She had assumed the term to be a nickname of some sort, and had assured herself it wasn't truly what it sounded like. Now, faced with Soul's reaction, she wondered if she had been terribly naïve.

"It is...a talent, one could say. A little like your empathy. But it is much darker, and much more dangerous. Let me try to explain...sometimes, when people die, their souls do not travel with them. They stay behind as ghosts, and depending on whether the person was evil, or simply powerful, they can become demons as well. In those cases, I am called to...dispatch those souls. But only the evil ones, Maka. Never those that choose to ascend."

Maka blinked, stunned. Whatever she had expected...it had not been this. "Do you..._eat_ the souls?"

"Yes." The air between them was as fragile as glass, and a single wrong move threatened to shatter it entirely. Yet she had not pulled away, although her hands had dropped from his neck to his chest.

"Can you eat the souls of the living? Or only the dead?"

He closed his eyes so that he would not see her rejection. "If they are close enough to death, then yes. Healthy, normal people no. _Never._ I _swear_ to you."

"This is why you were so lonely. Why your barrier is so strong. Why-" The power of her _father's _barrier sprang to mind, and the implication overpowered her. While she doubted her father to be a soul-eater as well - judging by his hatred for them - he _must_ have an ability of his own. There was no other explanation. To be acquainted with Soul and Stein, and protect himself the way he could...? The shock caused her to pull back, rubbing her hands together in thought. Too late she realized how her action appeared to Soul, who watched her with dimming eyes. She could feel the despair seeping from his heart; he thought she had rejected him!

"Soul, I-"

"I understand. I merely wish I could change this."

"Soul, _no_! I just need a moment-"

Yet there was no more time. Without warning, the grey haze swirled from their ankles to their eyes and before she could finish, they awoke.

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** I am fudging the concept of soul eating a little bit, but as I've already removed his role as a weapon, I'm hoping that's ok...and technically (as far as I can recall) don't the enemies _have_ to be either mortally wounded or dead to give up their souls? So maybe there is no fudging at all. Tra la laaaa!**

**... **

** Ellsbeth's last name comes from the lovely Hildegard von Bingen, who was an early Great in music history. If you want to know what good music from the 12th century sounds like, look that lady up.**

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**Also, just as a point of reference – Black*Star, Tsubaki, Kid, Liz, and Patti will (at this point) probably not be featured in this fic. In the beginning I wanted to include them (or at the least BS and Tsubaki) but I figured out fairly quickly that would stretch this tale past the ****7**** chapter mark that I wanted. If ever I somehow obtain more time than I currently possess, maybe I could write them in a sequel (haha). As for now, sorry :/**

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**I will try my best to get the next three chapters up as timely as possible. School started up a few days ago, however, so no (real) promises. I will try! Only two more chapters plus an epilogue to go!**

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**R&R!**


	5. The Burning

**Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Ookubo. I only own the parts that are blatantly not Soul Eater, haha.**

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**Ch. 5 The Burning**

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_**Stein's Shoppe of Curios**__** –**__** London, England**_

_** February 21st, 1801.**_

Unlike the day before, there was no need for Stein to gently rouse his assistant from the confines of slumber. Instead, Stein himself was awoken by the pervasive miasma of negative emotions that had permeated not only his living quarters, but (upon closer inspection) the shoppe as well.

Stein shook his head grimly, at once mourning the loss of the delicate, exotic, oriental lillies he had planted just yesterday, and his peace of mind. Consoling sorrowing young men was not an area in which he excelled – and was one of the larger reasons he had fled to the Continent all those years ago. However, he knew this was unkind to Soul. By and large the young man was of a far steadier character than Spirit, and was not prone to dramatic fits of hysterics, either. More dangerously, however, Soul was a great believer in depressive sulks, and with his power those bouts of ill-humor could prove dangerous indeed.

Stein swallowed back a sigh as he trudged down the stairs to the servant's quarters, readying himself to placate the sole occupant. Upon reaching the door he found it locked, and the sigh bubbled through his concerns to keep it down. All this botheration, and before he had enjoyed his breakfast, too- yet it was the thought of his morning tea that galvanized him, so without further ado, a gleaming metal implement spun from his sleeve, and the lock was picked.

"Soul? Are you awak-" Immediately it was clear that Soul was, in fact, conscious. It was also apparent that something had gone terribly wrong with last night's dream – the discomfort on the young man's face as well as the slicing pain in his aura testified to that. There was also the matter of Soul's having lost control of his usually iron-clad hold on his dark legacy. All of these factors were quotients in Stein's latest hypothesis – Soul had deviated from their plan, and had unsuccessfully confessed his affections for Maka. This being so, Stein wondered who he was most disappointed with – Soul for mucking it up, Maka for responding unfavorably, or Spirit, for simply existing. Stein suspected that somehow, Spirit was to blame. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Soul had not acknowledged his employer from the first moment he entered the room, but now he lifted his head. "Stein? Why are you here?"

Stein reached up to give his neck-gear a hearty turn before responding in a falsely cheerful tone. "I came to address the matter of the dark matter you seem to be emitting...but now I'm wondering if we shouldn't discuss something else, first."

With a muffled swear, Soul closed his eyes and focused. Heartbroken as he was, it was not an honorable thing to transmit his pain over half of West London. Furthermore, the King would certainly not be pleased to learn that the artifact he had bestowed upon Soul had been (unconsciously) used for such a purpose! With a small shudder, the miasma began to thin out, and dissipate into the air. Stein smiled grimly at Soul's control. He truly was the most powerful apprentice he had the opportunity to train; even if he was young, impressionable, and in love with Spirit Albarn's daughter. Yet he knew life could not be perfect, even if having Spirit as a father-in-law was a highly lamentable fate Soul would have to deal with...as long as they could sort out this conundrum.

"If I were to die, would that free her?"

Stein's vision clouded, and it was as if he could see two images at once: his current apprentice, sitting hunched over on the bed with his head in his hands, and Spirit, holding his dead wife in his arms, begging to take her place. The juxtaposition was perfect, and it took Stein a long moment to realize the present and respond. "I am not entirely sure. There is no record of any of the participants dying until at least a month after the lights entered them. While it seems likely, there is also the possibility that your death would negatively impact her...to what extent, I am not certain. Yet just as there is a possibility that your death would free her, there is also the chance it might drag her into death, along with you." Stein took in the defeated man in front of him before he continued. "Did it go so terribly?"

"She knows, Stein. She _knows."_

For Maka to discover Soul's true self without any preamble was never the ideal plan. Had she been warned, and had a proper explanation from sources she trusted – Stein – the news would have been much more gracefully received. Coupled with this would be an explanation of her _F__ather's _abilities as well, something even more likely to sway the young girl's opinion. Even so, it was difficult to see his goddaughter taking the news so badly. She was Kami's daughter, after all, and that woman had been made of far sterner stuff than any Stein had ever met. Yet even Kami had never met a man like Soul, a man with the power – and onus – to devour the souls of the damned.

"I think you'd better tell me everything, Soul. From the beginning, if you please..."

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Lady Maka Albarn was seriously displeased.

"And perhaps this color, your ladyship?"

It was not enough that she had accidentally betrayed Soul at their most desperate moment, causing him pain of which she was only too aware. There was also the matter of her father's non-specified abilities-

"Stand up straight, Maka. The cut won't be perfect if you slouch...!"

...and her own personal hell of dress-fitting. Maka was sure this was an archaic form of punishment from the forgotten gods, and could barely restrain herself from sighing, slouching, or any other means of expressing her disproval. That the King's distant cousins were due to arrive in less than a week meant nothing to Maka when the need to find Soul and _explain_ was paramount. Truly, the only thing that was keeping her immured in this horrid shop and it's fabrics, lace, and needles was the aging Lady Ford. After all, her cane was not only useful for keeping louts, ruffians, and young men with a mind to woo away, but also for sticking into Maka's back to correct her posture, and keep her trapped within this infernal shop!

The dressmaker began to wax eloquent on the cut of Maka's silhouette, and longingly of the forbidden French fashions that would emphasize it _just so._ Lady Kimberly nodded sagely, and entered in with her own views on Maka's perfections, as well as continental fashions. Maka took this as her cue to ignore them entirely and focus on the matter at hand: to find Soul, apologize for the misunderstanding, and make him explain everything in excruciating detail. Maka was not a romantic young woman by nature; she understood that there were many dangerous entities in the world, and the thought that Soul was one of them – and of _such_ a nature!- was a sobering notion. Yet that was precisely why she needed to know more. How could she continue her current friendship with him (to say nothing of their deeper feelings for each other) without having a better understanding of who he was, what he could do, and how she could possibly help him? The thought of leaving him had never crossed her mind, not even for an instant. After all, she _knew _what kind of man he was- how sensitive, intelligent, and kind he could be, and also how rarely one found men of his calibre. She also knew the warmth in his oddly-colored gaze, the surety in his sculpted fingers...and the seductive pull of their deep and mutual attraction for each other. How could she forget him? How could he believe her capable of leaving him behind?

"...and her ladyship's height! It's fortunate that can be attributed to her legs, otherwise the waistline would be a nightmare-"

"Yes, Maka's legs do seem to stretch on endlessly. I remember how coltish she was as a young girl..."

Yet at this rate, there wouldn't be a chance for Maka to apologize before they met in dreams tonight. The dressmaker's bright-eyed assistant had just come forth with yet another swath of carefully folded lace, and Lady Kimberly's obvious appreciation of the material ensured that they would not be leaving the shoppe for another hour or so. Maka folded her fingers together as once more she was poked and prodded, and undertook a grim promise within herself – she _would_ salvage her relationship with Soul, and would let nothing and no-one come between them ever again.

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_**The Village- Amsterdam, The Netherlands**_

_**Autumn, 1419**_

_Her heart was beating a thunderous rhythm that threatened to break free of her chest. The sack over her head cut her off from the world, and the roaring in her ears isolated her with her terror. Where were they taking her? Of all times, why now? They had led her down stairs, and before that across mud and stone, banging into homes as they dragged her past them. She was thrown down upon a hard, cold floor, and judging by the dampness in the air it had to be a cellar. She was still in the village, yet that was nothing to be thankful for. The people who had taken her were her neighbors, after all._

_Not one word had been spoken to her since her capture, nor had her captors spoken to each other. There was no need for words. She knew why they had taken her, even if it had taken them longer than she suspected. She also knew what they were preparing to do. There was only one penalty for witchcraft in the village, and it was to burn._

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_**Soul-**_

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Soul had barely opened his eyes unto the dream when he knew that something was wrong. For the first time since they began dreaming in tandem, Maka was not with him. His first reaction was merely to acknowledge that this was, due to their _interaction_ yesterday night, completely understandable. Perhaps her desire to be away from him was affecting the dream's direction? She _was_ an empath, and perhaps was powerful enough to bend the dream under her own will?

It was this last thought that caused Soul to realize his own folly. Tovenaar had been a powerful alchemist, and there was no possibility of anyone changing his memories. Maka's curious absence was more likely a mechanism of the dream, rather than force of her own will.

Yet what could be the purpose of separating them? Were they to experience two facets of the dream?

Stranger still, why should the smell of freshly cut wood and pitch only increase his anxiety?

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_**Soul!**_

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_ The village council had come before dawn, ripping her from her slumber, a full day before Rein was to have returned. She had been dreaming of the forests of her home, the way she remembered them from her childhood. The forests were a far more dangerous place then; full of wild beasts, overgrown paths from which there was no returning, and entities from an older world who did not appreciate the humans encroaching on their territory. Yet there was also an ethereal beauty in their sun-dappled glades, and it was that which tempted her in her youth, and it was that same beauty that trapped her as an adolescent. _

_ There was more than enough time to reminisce now that the villagers had finally descended upon her. She had but barely become a woman when the woodswomen came for her, recognizing in her something that made her their own. She did not remember much of her own initiation, save that she was cold, frightened, and utterly without choice. She knew from watching the initiation of one other - the only other she stayed long enough to witness - that this lack of memory was intentional, and a way to break down their old lives and rebuild them anew._

_She had stumbled through life among the woodswomen - the witches that had terrorized her childhood dreams - before they asked her to participate in the Ritual of Joining, barely 2 months after her 16th birthday. It was this that finally forced her to find the strength to make a choice, and she chose to refuse. She would welcome no man but her husband, she declared. No creature, living, dead, or otherwise, would sway her on this. _

_ The women held their silence, and let her leave the trees. Three months later, her father was dead._

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_**Soul! Where are you? I can't leave her-**_

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Soul's fear mounted slowly, but inexorably. He had traversed the entirety of the village and no one was to be found. Even Tovenaar's hut lay empty, with only the bedclothes disturbed. Oddly, tonight's dream was not directing his movements. There seemed to be no purpose to this dream memory, nothing to lead him from one happenstance to another. He wondered if this was a state alike to the souls he reaped - helpless and confused, and not quite shorn from the world. Yet they at least persisted in an inhabited realm - this was only an empty shell. It was quickly becoming the most unsettling experience of his existence.

Worse yet, there was absolutely no way for him to find his love, as even his dark powers found no purchase in the dream. It took a marginal amount of trial to determine that the powers gifted to him by the King's artifact did not cross over into his dreams, and that he was, for the first time since he was a young boy, completely without eldritch abilities. While this would normally fill him with a sort of bliss not unlike a religious experience, at the nonce it did nothing but demonstrate the extent of his own powerlessness.

Lord of Darkness, where could she be? Was she with the villagers? If so, how could they have been separated in the first place? He had just followed the same line of questions for the hundreth time when a dangerous remembrance edged its way into the forefront of his concerns. It was something Stein had told them, several days ago when all had begun: that the Flask of Dreams had been created on the eve of Tovenaar's wife's death.

His sharp inhale revealed the truth of his belated intuition. The smell of smoke hung heavily in the air, and deep in his bones, he knew - there would be a burning, this night. Worse yet, he finally knew where Maka would be.

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_**I need to find you-**_

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_ They had waited for Rein to leave his young wife, knowing deep in their hearts that she was something other, something strange, something wrong. Although she had done nothing but good since she came to them, they were swayed more by the shadow that lay over her heart. There were a few exceptions, of course. Linna had always been kind to her, but she had died several months ago, and with her death her family had joined the rest of the village in their attitude towards Ellsbeth. Rein's sister would have protected her, yet she had a family of her own to protect. With her husband gone accompanying Rein on his errand, she would be hard-pressed to protect her family and Ellsbeth. _

_ And, of course, Rein. Her husband. The man she had fallen in love with against all her fears, misgivings, and promises to the contrary. She knew she would live a life stalked by misery, as the women of the woods did not let go lightly those they chose to take. Yet his kindness and intelligence and garnered her interest in spite of herself, and the light that shone within him turned her heart to his from the first. Truly, there had been no choice but to fall in love with him, and when he had asked, no way for her to refuse him. _

_ Yet she had not told him what she truly was. Not when she had ingested the truth serum and he had asked her why she had left her home. Not when they exchanged their own marriage vows; secular, sacred, and arcane. She had reasoned that his powers would protect him, and so far she seemed to be correct. The villagers would not attack him. While she was a foreign witch, he was their own magician, and their loyalty to him would protect him. Besides, half the young women were in love with him, and with her gone they would be free to pursue him once more..._

_ A phantom pain gripped her abdomen, and she could not help but cry out. It was too early yet also too late, and this life could never be. The tears were far too close to the surface, yet still she did not let them fall. She had thought she could weather the consequences of her defection, and when she was alone, she could. Yet now...now that she was not alone and doubly so, she could barely stand the pain. _

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_**Soul! Help me!**_

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Now that he knew precisely where to go, it was as if the dream itself was pitting itself against him. In the way of dreams, he knew that the stake would be erected at the center of town. Yet the way there was fraught with difficulties - roots of trees would trip him as he ran, as well as plows, hoes, and rakes; even the air had seemingly thickened against him. If he could have spared a thought besides his increasing desperation to find and rescue the Lady Albarn, he might have wondered at the forces holding him back, and what they might represent. Yet he did not, and he labored on against the fear, and what felt like irreversible doom.

Finally, after being forced to a standstill by a compression of the air around him, Soul could stand it no longer. His outcry was both an outburst of frustration and a declaration of war, his determination and his desire uniting to save the woman he loved.

"I will not stand for this! I will not be waylaid! This dream - this _memory_ will not keep me from Maka! I will burn this dream to the ground, if I must; I will devour the souls of all who stand in my way - but _you will not __keep me from the woman I love. _I give you my word, Tovenaar, Ellsbeth...any who can hear me. Any who stand _against_ me. I am a Soul Eater, and I will not let this happen!"

Barely had his words echoed into the air before the world around him shuddered. Perhaps his words or his rage were the key to some unexpected lock, but the view in front of him - trees, the easterly half of a home, and a wide stretch of dirt road - abruptly _shifted_, and seemingly settled into place with quite another destination in view. There, directly in front of his eyes, lay the very scene he desired yet feared to see. The village had thronged around the upraised stake, and even from a distance he could see the gravity of the executioner as he lifted high the flaming torch. The woman tied to the stake - undoubtedly Ellsbeth - stood tall and unyielding against the wood at her back, and utterly silent. There were no last pleas for mercy, nor for God to save her soul. There was simply unnerving silence, like a woman long dead had taken her place in this burning.

And at her side, like a mute shadow no one seemed to see, was Maka.

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_**So-**_

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_ When they came for her again, there only act of mercy was to pull the sack from her head, allowing her to see the sun one last time. It hung low in the sky as they led her to the hastily erected stake at the center of the village. From there, she would burn. This small consideration made her heart skip, even in the midst of her sorrow. Her last moments would be spent bathed in the element that caused her soul to sing, even after these long years of denying her affinity towards flame, and all its power. Once, she would have begged for such a thing: to die by what had filled her soul with life and strength, rather than sickness, wound, or age. Now, she would give anything to simply see Rein one last time. She had not told him that she had once been a witch. She had not even told him about the life she now carried within her. _

_ Yet had she told him enough? Would he believe in her love for him? Would he believe in her?_

_ Now it was too late. The hands that had pulled her roughly towards her doom finally let go, and then there was only flame, purifying her mind of fear, and momentarily overcoming the love that she had risked everything for. _

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Soul had never moved as quickly as he did then, all the while fearing that were he to reach Maka in time, it would still be too late. She must be possessed, trapped by her empathetic connection to the woman whose clothes were now aflame. Otherwise how could she stand there, so perfectly still, on the dais where Ellsbeth now burned? He rushed past the dream people, now no more substantial than the wind around them, all the while calling out for her in tones of increasing urgency. Yet still she did not respond. It was not until he was barely five feet from her that he could determine whether or not she was even conscious – she was awake, but by the flame flickering in her eyes, he could not be sure if she was _aware. _

"Maka! Listen to me! You must come down! Please, Maka, hear me!"

Now that he had reached the dais, he realized there were no stairs leading up. Assuming it to be one last hurdle that the dream presented, and that there was no time for anything else, Soul stretched out his arms in supplication. "Maka, you must jump! Hurry, there's not much time!"

Maka's head turned from left to right, in an eerie parody of a refusal. Yet as she did so, her hands clenched at her sides, and her left knee bent underneath her.

Soul cursed bitterly before trying once more. "Maka, my love, please. You must come to me. I will catch you, I swear!"

The flame leapt higher behind her as the moisture in her eyes blurred her vision. Yet still she was trapped in the death throes of the woman behind her, and although she twitched and shuddered against herself, she could not move, nor speak. Seeing her helplessness, Soul tried one last time, in utter desperation. If the naming of his love could not move her, perhaps an appeal to her lively spirit would.

"Lady Maka Albarn! I did not expect such weakness from you, of all ladies! Is our adventure to end here and now, with such pity? Do you not have a ring to procure, and a father to curtail? Do you not have a melody to decipher? I am thoroughly disappointed in you, that you would give up like this." And then, because his heart was breaking even as the fear shrouded his sensibilites, he continued. "Perhaps you are not the woman I thought, Lady Albarn. It seems I was wrong about a great many things."

Lady Albarn was a woman of curious properties. It was proven in this instance; that a challenge to her character roused her even when words of love could not. Soul's last volley roused her indignation and fighting spirit, and it was with one final effort that she tore herself from the madness and the burning, and hurled herself off the dais. There was only enough time to call out his name before she fell, and it was with luck that he was able to shield her body as they both fell to the ground.

Even before the wind returned to his lungs, Soul ran hurried hands and eyes over her person, to determine whether she was physically sound. The intelligence and discernment had returned to her eyes, and his fear quickly fell away. "Maka, are you unhurt? Have you returned to your senses? Oh gods above you don't know the terror-"

"Soul." It was said with such finality that even his hands stilled, now lying senselessly against her. There was such a look in her eye that left him transfixed. Whatever she would say next would change worlds, he was sure of it, but in the end there were no words at all. The gray mist seeped upwards like a rising tide, and in the last moments remaining to her before they both awoke, Maka thrust herself forward, and pressed her lips firmly against his.

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** I have discovered a new method of writing, and it is to fill in the dull spaces at the office (in which I work). Thus, we have a new chapter of Stein's Shoppe, and it was the one I had no idea how to write. This was the darkest chapter, although in the original version of the story (in my head) the whole thing was going to be quite a bit more macabre, going into more detail about the King's Artifact, Soul's/Spirit's/Stein's powers, the shadowy underworld, and the Lord of Darkness (****who was probably gonna be a questionably evil and mad sexy ****Death the Kid).**

** Still. There shall be sweetness and light from this point onwards, although there is one more supernatural thread to tie up. Who, after all, was Spirit speaking with in his study...?**

**As always, this is unbeta'd, so please forgive my mistakes. If something really bothers you tho, that means you have to review (muahaha).**

**R&R anyways, all. There's only one more chapter and an epilogue left to go!**


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